


The Road Less Travelled By

by freetheankles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: And Lots of It, And plaid, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But do not ask me who tops in this fic or I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, But it’s an OC so there blow a sigh of relief, High School Principal Harry, Horses and snow, Hurt/Comfort, I don’t want to trigger anyone!, Lots of trees and axes, Louis is basically perfection in plaid in this enjoy, Lumberjack Louis, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Please don’t hesitate to tell me if I need to tag anything else, Recluse Louis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Teacher Harry, The OC has Alzheimer so be careful if that's a trigger, There’s also banter and comedy because it’s me, and the aftermath of it, it wouldn’t be me if someone didn’t die am I right, lots and lots of plaid, widower louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 98,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetheankles/pseuds/freetheankles
Summary: Louis was a lumberjack happy to be living his life alone in what could qualify as Middle Of Nowhere, Canada.Every morning, he went out into the woods, cut his logs, then came home at dusk to a scalding hot shower and a good book by the fireplace. Rinse and Repeat. He had a good life, quiet and peaceful; simple. Not asecludedone as Niall annoyingly claimed.Louis certainly didn't need some chatty trespasser dropping into his life, his forest, his home. Invading his space, his circle of friends, touching his stuff, asking questions about his husband. Hislatehusband.A trespasser who wasn’t supposed to crawl under his skin, occupy his thoughts, and steal his heart from where Louis had locked it safely away, only to put it right back on Louis’ sleeve — where it once laid.No, Louis definitely didn’t need Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally brainstormed and started with Lacey, who then graciously left it over to me to write when life got in the way of co-writing. I appreciate her gesture and her inspiration. 
> 
> A lot of people helped me shape this monster in the almost 2 years it took me to write and publish.
> 
> Mainly my lovely friends and Betas: [Gina](http://www.twopoppies.tumblr.com), [Lisa](http://www.a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/), [Silvia](http://www.melmanpur.tumblr.com), [India](http://www.indiaalphawhiskey.tumblr.com). I’m forever in your debt for all the love, support, and help you offered me throughout the years in the ups and downs of the One Direction fandom. This fic would look like shit if it weren’t for the four of you.
> 
> This is an illustrated fic thanks to [Gina](http://www.twopoppies.tumblr.com) ([fan art](http://www.twopoppies.tumblr.com/post/178593040626/he-found-louis-inside-facing-the-wooden-wall-with), [fan art 2](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178675392536/twopoppies-it-started-snowing-the-minute-the)), [Silvia](http://www.melmanpur.tumblr.com) [(manip)](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178710621461/the-road-less-travelled-by-by-freetheankles) and [Alaia](http://www.haztattlou.tumblr.com/) [(manip)](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178983067376/haztattlou-the-road-less-travelled-by-by), go give them some love, please. Content makers are so underappreciated in this fandom.
> 
> Edit: Thank you reflexions_of_mine_edits, for the [gorgeous manip](http://www.instagram.com/p/BoeP-lDAgcK/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=mo4kpvdeb80c) you did on instagram.
> 
> Jennie, thank you for Canada picking and coming up with great suggestions.
> 
> To every person that helped me, be it by cheerleading, picking me up when I was down, early reading, commenting on snippets, sending me inspiration, correcting stuff, or just by being my friend and letting me vent: Dan, Blandine, Helene, Seren, Lissie, Liz, Sea, Susette, India, Jacky, Brit, Bri, Tabby, Emmi, Molly, Mac, Holly, Clara, Océane, Lou, Anitra. Thank you. I hope your little mentions will make you smile.
> 
> Here’s [the playlist for the fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/16dRy8nJdzX7lWpfr3jsEL?si=rIR4o6SURmSxPqrVKO0Wpw), available through Spotify, thanks to my lovely friend and personal PR person, [Blandine](http://www.nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com/). (Thank you for the banner too!!)
> 
> I am not Canadian nor am I a lumberjack. So there are bound to be some mistakes (that are mine) despite having a canadian Beta and trying to do my research. My deepest apologies to any Canadians (or lumberjacks) reading this. 
> 
> Let’s blame everything inaccurate on my old friend, suspension of disbelief. Enjoy.
> 
> No translations are authorized for this work. Do not upload my work on any other platform. Do not send links to this fic to anyone affiliated with One Direction. I want my writing to stay in the fandom, please respect those wishes.
> 
> It’s so hard getting your fic noticed in such a prolific fandom, so If you enjoy this work, please leave kudos and comments and give it some love by reblogging [the masterpost](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178592740756/the-road-less-travelled-by-by-freetheankles)! 
> 
> I am [freetheankles](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com) and [freethemankles](http://www.twitter.com/freethemankles) over on twitter (although I’m not really active there). 
> 
> You can also check the [Lumberjack Louis tag](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/tagged/lumberjack-louis) for posts that inspired this work.
> 
> See you next time.
> 
> xx Addy.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

— The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

 

Harry felt himself slowly coming awake. The sun was filtering through the thin material of the tent surrounding him and he could hear the rustle of leaves, and the soft sounds of a few birds in the distance.

Smiling, he tried to stretch as much as he could in the confines of his sleeping bag. It was a bit on the short side for him, but mid-August on the eastern coast of Canada meant beautiful weather for camping, so he wasn’t in the least bit cold. In fact, the sun was already starting to heat up the tent, and he was just about to climb out to find a tree to relieve himself, and heat up the fire for a cup of coffee.

As he crawled toward the tent’s opening, there was a crack of a branch outside, followed by— a snort? Yes, definitely a snort. His mind started racing through all of the animals that would make a noise like that one. Even as he tried to convince himself that it must have been a deer, or worse case scenario a raccoon, all his brain could conjure up was the image of a giant black bear looking to eat him for lunch.

He sat for a few agonising moments waiting to hear it walk away, or do _something_ , but he was met with silence instead.

The birds weren’t even chirping anymore.

He didn’t know if it was his terribly full bladder, curiosity, or sheer stupidity that eventually made him reach for the tent zipper, and slowly pull the flap open, but he was immediately met with a huge, black nose sticking into the opening of the tent, knocking him backwards.

“Fuck me!” [ He shouted](https://78.media.tumblr.com/86e4cdcdc8ff3b732ef0a76b72fb675a/tumblr_inline_pe8ltoIqkC1sv7gxp_540.gif), trying to push himself as far away from the creature as he could manage.

“Hey, not in front of Jasper.” Someone, who was definitely _not_ the creature, replied from outside the tent. Suddenly Harry was alone in the tent again, this time with a view outside.

The giant black nose was attached to one of the biggest horses Harry had ever seen. Beside the horse, was a man dressed in a blue plaid shirt and dark blue jeans leaning against the leg of the monstrosity, staring directly at Harry, and looking as unimpressed as one could get.

“H— Hi.” Harry stuttered. It sounded just as dumb to his ears as he suspected it would, but the guy, despite being shorter than him, was seriously intimidating. Or maybe it was his horse. Either way, the man was also pretty. Embarrassingly so in fact, driving Harry to start fumbling to find his words.

“This is private property.” The man said, before Harry could ask anything. It took him aback a little, but he managed to climb out of the tent, in just a pair of black briefs, grabbing a scarf on his way out to tie his unruly hair back, hoping that he didn’t look too disheveled. He shivered from the chill morning air licking at his skin.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you. Just thought I would get a little camping in before summer is over, heh?” He tried to smile his best friendly smile. He was pretty well known for his smile, and his ability to get along with others, after all.

“Well, you’re going to have to do it someplace else.” The man didn’t smile back, and Harry frowned a little too.

“Oh— okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” A bit flustered, he quickly turned around to grab his bag and start packing up. In his haste, his bare foot caught on a gnarled root jutting out from the leaf covered ground. The next thing he knew, he was falling face first onto the ground. He could feel the flush of embarrassment creep up his neck as the man behind him sighed heavily, still not moving. When Harry tried to scramble up, he landed back down face first and a cry of pain was pulled from his mouth.

His ankle felt like it was pounding twice as fast as his heart. He couldn’t move it. “Fuck. I think I sprained my ankle,” Harry moaned into the ground, slowly becoming aware of his near nudity and his posterior angled upward in the air toward the intimidating man. And his horse.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the man said as though Harry did it on purpose.

“It really hurts.” Harry managed to roll onto his back, whimpering, part in embarrassment and part in indignation. The movement only made things worse, pain shooting up his entire leg. He squinted up at the man looming over him, the look of annoyance he sported earlier had now turned into full-blown disgust. He silently reached a hand out, and Harry gratefully grabbed it, tentatively standing up. The man pulled over Harry’s cooler, putting it under him for a place for him to sit.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asked. Harry shook his head which earned him an eye roll.

 _Great_. Harry was usually so good at first impressions.

He pulled the scarf from his hair, and offered it instead. It was dark green with bronze butterflies all over it. The man took it without question, and deftly wrapped it around Harry’s bare ankle. When it was tied up, Harry felt just a tiny bit better. The stranger stood back to his full height, without another glance in his direction. “I’ll go get the truck,” he said over his shoulder, grabbing the rope attached to the horse's head once again. As he walked away, Harry noticed for the first time that the horse was hooked to a harness, and there was a big load of wood following behind him. They only made it a few feet away.

“Wait!” Harry wailed, suddenly panicking. “You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

The man looked over his shoulder, expression as unconcerned as ever. “Heh? I’m just getting the truck. I’ll be right back.”

Harry hesitated for only a moment. He felt incredibly vulnerable standing, slightly unsteady, in only his underwear. He looked away before he replied, “It’s just— I’m a bit scared.”

The man stopped, looking almost incredulous. His hair was the color of fallen leaves, a mess of chestnut, and gold tones, with a hint of red. It struck Harry as odd that this soft looking mane belonged to the same hard looking man walking decisively back to Harry, hands on his hips.

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“My name is Harry.” He stuck his hand out to introduce himself properly. He was met with a look of distrust before the man slowly extended his own hand. It was dirty, and calloused, but cool and dry at the same time.

“Louis.”

“Nice to meet you, Louis.” Despite his pain, and seemingly discouraging situation, Harry couldn’t help but smile as he said the name. Louis just huffed.

“Listen, _Harry,_ ” he said the name like it was a curse word. “However you managed to get yourself in here, I'm sure you can find your way out. I’m not interested in making friends. I have work to do. I tried to help, but clearly you don't want me to help, and I don’t have all day, so see you later. Just be off my property by the time I pass through here again.” Louis started to walk away again, shoulders stiff, gate determined and steady.

“What? No! Please. I'm never going to make it out of here by myself. Please don't leave me here. What if—  What if there are _bears_?”

Louis stopped, and turned sharply, arms folded and eyebrows raised dramatically. “Bears?”

“Please?” Harry tried once more. Louis sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Can you at least manage to put some clothes on?” He asked, like it was painful to even look at Harry.

Harry flushed again, remembering his state of undress. He’d practically forgotten, with all the falling and pain and _rudeness_. He hobbled as quickly as he could towards his tent to throw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. One wrong step on his ankle, and he landed himself on the ground once again.

“Oh, for the love of God.” He heard mumbled in his direction. Harry lifted his head to see Louis duck into his tent, aggressively throwing things around until he came back out with a few articles of clothing in his hand. He tossed it all at Harry, hitting him square in the chest, and went back toward the horse who had been standing patiently, witnessing the whole strange encounter.

Harry gingerly slipped his hurt ankle through a pair of loose fitting sweats, groaning a little as he did it, and tossed his old Britney Spears t-shirt over his head while Louis meticulously undid buckles and ropes from the horse, and lead him over towards the tent. Harry fought the urge to back up as a set of giant hooves came closer to his bare toes. He saw Louis clicking his tongue impatiently. The fear must have shown.

“You'll have to get on Jasper’s back,” Louis told him, actually waiting for Harry to do it.

“Um, that's not going to happen,” Harry replied. He’d laugh if Louis didn’t look so serious.

“He's just a horse,” Louis reasoned.

“No, he's an elephant, actually. Or a wooly mammoth. Good job Jasper, bringing back the ice age look.” Jasper huffed at him, and Harry leaned back again.

This is when Louis decided to be a complete shit and pull Jasper’s head down to waist height and grab him by the mane, effectively allowing Louis to pull himself up the horse's neck in one swift move, and then slide down, so he was seated firmly on Jasper’s back. Just like it was the most natural thing in the world. Harry hesitated again as Louis reached for his hand.

“Can't you just get him to lay on his belly or something?” Harry asked warily.  

“No I can’t. Because this isn't the circus. Just take my hand and help as much as you can.” Louis reached his hand down again and Harry took it this time, hopping on his good leg. He didn't believe for a second that this small man could lift him straight up the side of a horse, but before he knew it, Louis had him by the hand with one hand, and under the armpit with the other, telling him to swing his leg over, and there Harry was, sitting on top of a horse whose back was at least two meters off the ground.

“Wow,” he said, breathless, because seriously, he was impressed. But Louis slid back down, leaving him alone. He scrambled to hang on to something before Louis threw him a rope. “Where are you going?”

“Leading Jasper out of here.”

“Can't you do that from up here?” Harry shrieked, as he felt the horse move under him. He gripped the rope tighter.

“No.”

“Why not?” They were steadily moving through the trees on what now looked more like a path than a clearing.

“Because.” Louis responded, tone flat.

“ _Because_? What kind of answer is that?” Harry tried to calm his wobbly voice, waiting for Louis to respond, but he didn't, just kept walking. He tried another tactic. “What about my stuff, shouldn't we have packed it?”

“I'll take care of it.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“How far is it?”

There was a beat of silence, in which Harry wished this whole day never happened and that he’d chosen to spend his weekend doing any other activity beside camping.

“You talk a lot,” Louis remarked impassively, in lieu of answering Harry’s actual question.

“Only when I'm uncomfortable, and I can tell you that I am _extremely_ uncomfortable right now. This angle isn't doing anything for my ankle.” Not to mention my bladder, Harry thought silently to himself. He still hadn’t had his morning pee.

“How about we just don’t talk, then?”

“Yeah,  fine,” Harry grunted, turning his head away, to hide his blush.

 

  

 

So much for not talking. Louis added “liar” to the list of unsavoury attributes that this Harry person possessed. Talked too much, trespassed, couldn't walk in a straight line, and lied. Plus, Louis didn't trust anyone who had a natural fear of horses, so there was that.

The trip home was long, only made longer by the incessant chatter going on behind him. Between the questions about Louis’ life that he definitely did not answer, to the life story that Harry had happily provided him, to the glib comments to Jasper about his size, Louis had never been so happy to smell the odor of Jasper’s pasture.

“What’s that smell?” Harry took a few sniffs in the air, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“Horse shit,” Louis replied. His entire property didn't smell like that, they just happened to be coming in at an unfortunate angle, but Louis suddenly felt defensive of his home. He didn't say it, of course. His insecurity was no one's business but his own. Instead, he opened a small gate in the fence, and made his way down a hill that lead to a small valley below. He could see his house, and the barn from there. He noticed Jasper’s muscles starting to twitch, a tell that he wanted to be set free to roll around and stretch.

“Wow.” Harry said behind him. “Is this your house?” Louis smiled to himself for a moment. Pride bloomed in his chest.

This _was_ his home. He’d built the log house with his own two hands. It had started with four walls and a chimney when he had moved into it. He remembered all of the hope in front of him that first night that he and—

“Loueh!” An orotund voice barked from close to the house. He'd recognize that loud mouth anywhere, but it caused his passenger to jump.

“What the fuck was that?”

Louis rolled his eyes. They approached the figure standing at the foot of the driveway, which looked more like a parking lot considering that the path between the house and barn was mostly gravel and full of various equipment.

“What's up, Niall?” Louis grabbed the man's hand then pulled him in a semi hug, patting him on the shoulder.

“You're usually back by now. I was startin’ to get worried about you.” Niall’s eyes twinkled. Louis could see a ribbing coming, and was ready for a quick comeback when suddenly Niall’s attention shifted. “Well, well, well… what do we have here?” He looked up, delighted, at Jasper’s back, and— oh yeah.

“Trespasser,” Louis grumbled, dropping the rope holding Jasper to stretch his back.

“Jeez, Lou, you could’ve just asked him to leave.”

“I _did_ , then the dumbass set straight out to hurt himself. I'm getting him into the truck and taking him back to wherever the hell he came from.” Louis quickly realized that he was talking to himself because Niall was gingerly helping Harry down off the horse by now.

“So where _did_ you come from, heh?” Niall asked once Harry's uninjured foot hit the ground.

“Uh, like today, or in general?” Harry’s stupidly slow voice drawled out.

“Here we go,” Louis whispered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He’d done that so many times today his corneas were beginning to hurt _._

“Start with your name, bud,” Niall replied, laughing easily, taking him under the arm to steady him, like they were old friends already.

“Oh, Harry Styles. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh!” Niall yelled, causing both Harry and Louis to startle. “You're the new high school principal!”

“Yes, actually. Just got here,” Harry replied, more subdued, and looking a little pale. Louis figured Harry’s ankle must be killing him.

“Niall! I teach Music!” Niall pumped his hand vigorously. “Wow, you look young.”

“Haha, yeah, I’m twenty-eight, thanks. Guess you guys don't get many applications for temp teaching positions.”

Niall laughed like this was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “That's for fucking sure.”

In Niall’s defense though, they did live in what could qualify as “Middle Of Nowhere, Canada”, population four thousand, one school, one post office, one motel. A town where everyone knew everyone. So, not the hottest spot to work, or live, in the first place. People were not lining up to work here, no wonder they’d hired someone without all the years of schooling normally needed. Still, this was where Louis — and Niall — grew up. It was home.

“So where are you staying?” Niall prompted next. Louis wondered if Niall realized that he might finally have found someone who talked as much as he did. Louis wished he could summon his earplugs right about now as he once again pinched the bridge of his nose, trying incredibly hard to keep the headache at bay.

“Yes.” Louis jumped in. “Where can I drop you off?”

Both men looked at him. Niall seemed disappointed (Niall could suck it, for all Louis cared) and Harry looked— what was it? Wary? Confused? Louis settled on nervous.

“The motel?” Niall’s nose scrunched in distaste, and Louis knew he was making a bit of a face himself. The motel wasn't exactly the finest of accommodations for someone staying one night, let alone long term.

“Umm, yeah, renting is hard to come by around here as it turns out,” Harry added hesitantly.

“Yeah, that sucks.” Louis shrugged, eyebrows raised as high as the skyline. “So, ready to head out?”

“Want a drink?” Niall said over him. And fucking louder than him at that. “I was supposed to be here for lunch, and I expect to be fed. I’m starving. Let’s go see what Louis has in his fridge.” Harry smiled brightly at that, completely immune to Louis’ glare, or his rapidly shaking head.

“I would love that, thank you.” Harry replied, and they walked toward the house, leaving Louis to stew outside by himself.  

By the time he hitched Jasper to a post, and caught up, Niall and Harry were looking cozy in the kitchen. Louis’ kitchen. Harry had his foot up on a chair, and a bag of frozen corn laying across his ankle. He looked particularly comfortable for an unwelcome, _unwanted_ guest.

“I’m leaving.” Louis said a little too loudly into the kitchen. Niall just smiled at him.

“No matter, I found the turkey soup.” Just then, the microwave dinged, and he hopped up to get two steaming bowls full of soup. _Louis’_ soup.

“That’s my soup! Winnie made that for me!” Louis squeaked.

“Calm down, I saved you some.” Niall replied, although he was looking in the Tupperware container with a bit of skepticism. “Anyway, where are you going? You just got back.”

“I have to go back for my load, and all of the trespasser's things, including his bike. God knows what’s blowing around in my woods right now.”

“The trespasser has a name, you know.” The trespasser — Harry — piped up.

Louis just gave him a once over, turning to address Niall instead. “Can you drive him into town? We can get together with the guys tonight or something.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned back towards the outdoors where his horse — his only ally at the moment — was waiting for him.

“Lou, hold up a sec.” Niall’s honeyed voice came up behind him. “I was thinking—  ”

 _No. Nonononononono._ Louis knew this tone. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, willing Niall to just—  _shut up_ for once.

“No.” Louis deadpanned, as firmly as he could manage, there was a possibility he could have the last word. Maybe. Possibly.

“Seriously, Lou. We can’t take him back to the motel.”

“Why the fuck _not_?” Louis turned wildly, trying not to shout out in pure despair.

“Well, he’s hurt, for starters, and he doesn’t have anyone here. You can’t leave him with Scary Molly. Plus there’s no elevator there, and a million stairs, he could die from a nasty fall with that ankle. He needs someone to keep an eye on him until he gets back on his feet at least.”

“Molly didn’t look so terrible.” Harry’s voice was faint.

“Great! Take him home with _you_ then.” Louis said to Niall, completely ignoring Harry. “You need a project until school starts up anyway.” Louis didn’t look back, getting Jasper ready for another couple hours in the woods.

“I don’t have the room, and you know it. Even my couch isn’t full-sized. Plus I can’t bunk with my boss, right? Must be against some kind of rule.”

“Well, nothing much we can do then, is there?” Louis feigned ignorance, truly hoping to avoid the turn that this conversation was taking. He should have known better. He really should have.

“You could let him stay here. At least, until he finds an apartment.”

“Oh no. No no no no. You get that little dark cloud of a thought out of your head right this minute, Niall.” He yanked one last buckle into place with a resolute _No_.

He started to walk back towards the house, boots crunching the gravel with Niall at his heels.

“But Lou, he’s in need! He’s like an injured little baby deer, look at him. He needs someone kind and caring, someone with compassion to take care of him, someone who’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“None of the things you just said describe me.” Louis said, giving Niall a hard look. Was it possible to induce a fatal stroke with a glare?

“What would Teddy do?” Niall said pointedly, looking hurt, actually no, sad. Fuck. Niall dropped his shoulders.

That was a fucking low blow if Louis ever saw one.

Louis groaned. “You don’t know what he’d do.” He outright lied.

“Come on, you _do_ know. He would let him stay. He would take him in with open arms and expect you to have some compassion towards a creature in need. This is not the Louis Teddy fell in love with.”

That manipulative fucking son of a bitch—

“Who’s Teddy?” came a throaty voice behind them, startling Louis out of his trance.

“My husband,” Louis said at the same time that Niall said, “My brother.”

“Oh, sounds like a decent guy.” Harry looked at Louis, and Louis knew that he’d heard the previous conversation. He also knew that Harry didn’t want to go back to that motel to fend for himself. Louis sighed again.

“Yeah, he was.” A frown flashed across Harry’s face. Louis scrunched his eyes shut, then forced himself to look at Harry before changing his mind. “You’re staying here for a while. Go lie down, get off that foot because you’re not staying a minute longer than you have to. Niall will show you around the house. I’m leaving.” Then he walked away, as quickly as he could with a one-ton horse lumbering behind him.

He could already feel himself regretting his decision.

Damn Niall Sheeran. Damn him to hell.

 

  

 

Niall, who Harry found out headed the music program for the high school, finished the house tour with the guest room Harry was going to stay in. For a spare room, it was more homey than any place Harry had ever stayed in his life. The walls were made of wood, stained a deep rich brown, as were the floors and bed frame. The bed itself was covered in a worn, but beautifully intricate quilt that could well have been hand sewn. A window looked out over a small garden that pretended to be this side of untended — almost haphazard — and yet, it was obviously lovingly cared for and thought-out. Four guitars hung on the bedroom wall by the door. From what Harry could tell they were used, but well-loved and cared for. Looking more closely, he noticed math symbols engraved on each guitar (+, x, ÷, -) which struck Harry as odd.

As he briefly rested in the large leather chair that was sat in the corner or the room (his ankle was killing him), Harry let his mind wander, momentarily checking out of his conversation with Niall, who was now busy squeezing all the town gossip into one breathless sentence anyway.

How had he found himself in a stranger’s house when he was camping all by himself less than 4 hours ago, which by the way was a stupid idea in the first place? He was coming to regret the decision. Harry had never been the outdoorsy type, nor did he like spending time alone. But he did love to try new things and never met a challenge he didn’t try to rise up to. Still he didn’t see that one coming. Life really worked in mysterious ways sometimes. But Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he loved the unexpected. Thrived on it even.

He certainly didn’t expect for a broody lumberjack straight out of a romance novel to literally sweep him off his feet and take him horseback riding today. Which, well. Wasn’t exactly what happened, but— semantics. It sure beat sitting alone in that ratty old motel.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when Niall clapped his hands abruptly and began  ordering him into bed.

“Louis is right about one thing, you need to rest that foot. I am going to get you an Advil, and ice, and let you rest.”

“Do you have to leave?” Harry asked, only half joking, “he makes me a little nervous.”

“Who? Louis?” Niall laughed. “Nah, he’s harmless! He likes people to think he’s this grumpy, old bear, but he’s not. You just have to get to know him, that’s all.”

“Why is he like that?” Harry asked. He couldn’t help but let the words bubble out of him, he was curious by nature, and Louis was a walking contradiction which made him, by far, the most intriguing person Harry had ever met.

Small, if not delicate, Louis was also the epitome of manly and rugged at first glance: the way he stood, feet wide apart in a powerful stance, was as noticeable as the full beard he wore that couldn’t hide his sharp jaw and angular cheekbones. But his baby blue eyes, fringed with long brown lashes were soft — almost _too_ soft for his face.

“He’s not like anything, That’s just who he is. Love him or leave him.” Niall’s eyes twinkled as he began to walk out the door. “Spoiler alert, no one ever leaves him.”

Harry laughed, but he didn’t think Niall was joking. Louis had something in him that had made Harry not want to take his eyes, or his mind, off him since the moment they met.

Niall walked out the door, and Harry suddenly found himself alone again for the first time since the morning. He could barely keep his eyes open once he lied down, so he gave in to the pull of sleep.

 

  

 

When Harry woke again he was disoriented, but his throbbing ankle quickly reminded him of  the events of the day.

“Fuck,” he said out loud when he accidentally knocked his other foot into the swollen joint.

Looking around his room, he realized there was no clock; he looked out the window, and couldn’t tell if it was just coming on night, or just coming on morning. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep.

Harry made his way down towards the kitchen listening carefully for any sense of movement in the house. He couldn’t find any. Louis wasn’t here. Or he was sleeping, or Harry was having some weird dream. He found the remote to the television between the couch cushions, and clicked the power on. 6 pm. So it was the same day, which meant that Louis wasn’t sleeping, surely. He must have not gotten back yet. Which meant none of Harry’s things were back either. He wished he’d had the forethought to grab his phone this morning before he was whisked off on a giant mammal.

 _Blissfully alone, blissfully uncommitted_ , the forefront of his mind chanted. _Lonely_ , the back of his mind shouted. He pushed it down, and turned the tv off once again. There was one thing that he _was_ sure about. He was hungry, and Louis probably would be as well whenever he made it back in. He set off to find something to eat.

By the time Harry heard the front door creak open, it was dark outside and the house was filled with the fresh scent of stir fry. He braced himself for another encounter with Louis by plastering on a bright smile, and filling a plate of food for him.

“I thought I told you to stay off your foot,” is what he got for his troubles.

“I made food.” Harry grit his teeth, but kept his smile.

“You did?” Louis said, his stare skeptical, untrusting. Harry just shrugged, and put a plate on the table, then made another for himself. He sat down, and immediately dug in. Louis stood there for a second, just watching, but finally pulled out a chair, and sat down, slowly picking up a fork.

“You have a beautiful home,” Harry remarked, tentatively. It was mostly for small talk but it was true nonetheless, almost every corner of it was full of well thought-out furniture and decorations, not to mention the structure itself. “Niall took me on a little tour. I couldn’t believe that the room he gave me was the guest room. I can only imagine what _your_ room looks like.” Louis’ fork stopped short of his mouth, and Harry almost choked on a mouthful of food. “Not that I want to see your bed—  I mean room. I didn’t look. The door was closed. I just walked right on past it.” He looked down at his plate, trying to hide the blush that was making his cheeks feel hot.

Louis didn’t reply. Harry snuck a peek up, and saw Louis’ look of surprise when he took his first bite, and then a small smile crept in as he chewed. _Success_.

“I saw some pictures too. I recognised you and Niall.” He pushed on. “The redhead— is Teddy?”

Louis stopped again, a bit of color drained from his face. Harry could practically see the struggle going on inside him. “Ed,” Louis finally grumbled, and went back to eating, eyes cast down at his plate. Harry just nodded. The moment called for silence as Harry sensed the subject was sensitive, almost off-limits. Feeling the curiosity grow in the pit of his belly, he proceeded, albeit cautiously.

“He looks— kind.” Harry said, his eyes caught the closest photo, which was just a small photo sitting in a little frame on the kitchen window sill. “I noticed that there’s an animal in every picture of him. I didn’t realise that cows could be so tiny? Saw the ones of him and Niall. Are they a lot alike? Niall is so loud.” Harry smiled at the thought of his new friend. “Even in the house. It’s like he doesn’t have a volume button.”

“I don’t— ” Louis barked out, putting his hand up to silence Harry. He took a few deep breaths. “I can’t do this.” He stood up, and walked towards the stairs, only pausing to touch another photo hanging crookedly on the wall. Harry could see the firm set of his jaw and the way his shoulders bunched around his neck. He didn't know Louis that well but he knew when someone was upset. And if he didn't gather that from the way the other man looked, he definitely did from the heavy footsteps on the stairs and the loud bang of a door shutting firmly upstairs.

 

  

 

Louis slammed the door harder than he intended, but it was a symbol of how much he wanted to shut that man from his mind. Unfortunately a door did not keep Louis’ brain from repeating Harry’s comments in his head. _Was Ed kind, did he love animals, was he as loud as Niall?_ He was torn between never wanting to stop talking about Teddy — about the man he was, about the life he lived — and wanting to protect his own memories, his heart, from this stranger. _Intruder_. The word kept flying into Louis’ skull. Harry was like a parasite, worming his way into Louis’ life, into his mind.

Louis didn’t like it one bit.

He also didn’t like how much and how fast Harry had gotten under his skin. He couldn’t figure out why, either. He was annoying. His stupid long legs, his stupid fat curls and his stupid way of speaking. It sounded like he was about to fall asleep on himself with every word that fell from those pretty, full, pink lips of his. God. Plus, he was a _trespasser_. Louis couldn’t forget that, could he?

So annoying.

He had spent most of the day sitting under the hot sun trying to avoid what was waiting for him at home. And now he was trying to keep at bay the phantom pain brought on by the way he felt when he saw Harry sitting in his kitchen. He told himself that Harry would be gone in a few days, and then everything would go back to normal. Back to the way it was, the way it has been since before— before he lost the person that mattered the most. All he had to do was be patient, and he would have his life back in no time.

He looked over at the picture on his bedside table. Teddy with his arms wrapped around a tiny foal, pure black, and mane tufted out. His Jasper. He smiled, he couldn’t help it when he saw a picture of his husband.

That’s just what Teddy did to him. Always did and always would.

 

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed Sheeran as Niall's brother, admit you didn't see that one coming.
> 
> Edouis as an otp? Thoughts?
> 
> A cookie for you if you find the Teen Wolf reference.
> 
> Stay hydrated, it’s going to be a long ride ;)


	2. Chapter 2

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

— The unstoppable force paradox

  

The first thing Louis thought when he woke up the next morning was that something wasn’t right. It took him a few seconds to register what was happening around him. He was tired, groggy even, but his alarm wasn’t blaring at him. The sun was filtering into the window, but Louis could tell that it wasn’t high in the sky yet. And there was a _noise_. Why were there things making noise in his house on a Saturday morning? It was the _weekend_. Why was he awake again?

The noise sounded again. Singing. Harry. Harry singing [ Aretha Franklin ](https://youtu.be/dEWuAcMWDLY) specifically. Louis sighed, and stretched under the thin sheet. He could tell by the sky that the day was going to be hot again, but it was nice and cool inside thanks to the A/C. Before he was able to stop himself, he wondered how Harry had slept. Fortunately for him, the singing got louder, distracting him from any further musings on his unwanted houseguest’s welfare. The longer Louis lay there and listened to Harry’s warbling, the more annoyed he got. It’s not that Harry’s voice was unpleasant (it was quite sweet-sounding, actually — although Louis wasn’t about to acknowledge that). But, still. It was noise where it had been silent for so long. And it was perky where it had long been melancholy. And Louis wasn’t ready for that. Not today. And not because of Harry Styles.  

Louis barged into the bathroom, shouting. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! This is the only day I can sleep in!"

To his credit, Harry stopped singing immediately— to hide his crotch and one nipple. Before Louis could contemplate what the point was in hiding one nipple, Harry shrieked. “Jesus Christ, you gave me a heart attack, have you ever heard of knocking?”

"You’re still fucking talking!"      

Through the glass partition, Louis could see that Harry was completely naked, all soaped up, as one is when they take a shower. He was also wearing a[ white beard made out of foam.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5d6b251577ef2ef0a55869cac314a390/tumblr_pglofy2W5V1wrgu1wo3_540.gif) Who the fuck did _that_? There was so much to look at, like the sight of pale skin under dark ink.  But there was no need to linger on— anything there. Louis’s breath hitched as he jolted back and turned around to grunt.

 _Well done, Louis. Christ._                 

"You'd never survive one day working in a high school if you're this allergic to noise, you know." Harry replied, tone like the one you’d use on a small child.    

“Good thing I don’t work in a high school, God knows every one of my friends works there already.” Louis was still in the bathroom. He should get out of there, but he had trouble ungluing his feet from the floor for some reason and somehow he felt the need to get his point across. If the invader didn’t learn about boundaries —  _his_ boundaries — from the start, chances were he was going to pee in every corner of Louis’ sanctuary faster than Louis could fell a tree.

“You’re not really much of a morning person, heh?” Harry snorted at his own comment which wasn’t in the least funny.

“I’m not a _people’s_ person,” Louis barked, his back still to Harry. “I’d appreciate it if you could respect the peace and quiet, especially on the weekend. Most days I’ll be out before you even open your eyes, but Saturdays are sacred in his house. Do you understand?”

“Um.”

“My house, my rules.” Louis said with as much authority as he could muster. He didn’t let Harry get another word in before getting back to his room and faceplanting on his bed, which was now cold. _Great._

A few minutes later, there was a soft rap of knuckles on his door. Louis was _this_ close to killing Harry, he swore. The door creaked slightly opened.

"I'll start breakfast. Come down when you're ready." It was said very softly, like Teddy would have done any other Saturday—   which only served to infuriate Louis more.

  
   

 

Half an hour later, Louis came downstairs. In Harry’s humble opinion, he looked like a grumpy kitten startled out of a nap. Hair sticking out in every direction possible, wearing sweats that had seen better days, and a soft looking, plain grey shirt— he was cuter than any grump had any right to be. The beard he was sporting made him look intimidating though, especially since he still looked a bit mad, too. All this from a little Aretha in the morning? That seemed quite an overreaction.

“There you are, I was wondering if you’d fallen back asleep up there.”

Louis grunted in response as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that Harry had made, so Harry pushed. Again.

"Do you want orange juice? Grunt one time for yes, two for no."       

“Very funny.”

"He talks!"

"Just so you know, I’m reevaluating this proposition of mine — letting you stay here. As well as all my life choices," Louis said humorlessly, stirring a spoon into his cup.

"Taste the [ Timbits ](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/75/Timbits2.jpg/1200px-Timbits2.jpg) first." Harry reasoned, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t help it, he was so confident in his timbit–making abilities he even forgot to feel intimidated. What could he say, he was a master at making ball-sized donut holes.

"How did you even make these? Wha—  "

"Taste the Timbits!" Harry interrupted imperiously, guiding his greasy fingers to Louis' mouth who looked at him like he grew a second head. “Please?” Finally, Louis opened his mouth begrudgingly, taking a somewhat furious bite, hot breath tingling Harry’s knuckles. “I assure you they’re delicious.”

Louis blinked once, his eyelashes swaying in a dramatic slow swoop, and then he— grunted. Probably in appreciation. Or because it irritated him that the Timbit was that good. Either or.

"It's tasty, yeah?" Harry flashed him a knowing smile.

"It's—  edible." Louis mused.

Harry sighed, eyeing him for a beat. "I’ll have you know that people have courted me for weeks in the hopes of tasting my Timbits. My balls are delicious.”

Louis choked on a Timbit, spitting crumbs all over the floor. _Oops? Too much?_

"And that is my Saturday ruined. Might as well go to work." Louis left soon after.

Harry cleared the table, mumbling to himself, “He really must hate Aretha.”

 

   

 

Louis didn’t make it half an hour in the woods before he was joined by his brother-in-law, stomping his battered boots onto wood chips like they personally offended him.

“You know, Teddy wouldn't approve of your behavior,” Niall said, scowl perched low on his serious face. He threw a pair of crutches that unceremoniously landed at Louis’ feet.

Louis didn’t even bother to stop logging. “Did he rat me out? How did you even find me out here?"

"Please, Ed and I played  in these woods longer than you ever have." Niall shot back.                    

Louis stopped to swipe the sweat accumulating on his forehead. "I'm not playing, I'm working.”

The chuckle coming from Niall’s throat showed that whatever Louis was selling, he wasn’t buying. "You haven't worked a Saturday since high school."

"That's a lie."

Niall nodded, snatching Louis’ axe from his hands. "Sure. You pretended to come up here when you and Teddy were spatting. Called that work too."

"Leave me alone, Ni," Louis grunted, suddenly painfully aware that his hands were empty, he didn’t know what to do with them.

Niall dropped the axe. "You know what? If you continue like this, one day I will."     

It stung, even if Louis didn’t really think Niall meant it, it still hurt to hear him say the words. Then again, Niall wouldn’t be the first Sheeran to leave him.

Louis didn’t watch as Niall picked up the crutches and started to make his way back, only stubbornly staring at the dented stump he was working on.

The footsteps came to a halt.

"I miss him too, you know." Niall said, steady and hard, judgmental eyes boring into Louis.

 _You’re not the only one missing him,_ Louis had to remind himself. Sometimes, the pain was still so acute, it obliterated everything and everyone else around. He hated that.

"Leave the crutches,” Louis sighed, “I'll bring them to him."                        

Niall nodded. His cheeks were a little blotchy because he was still upset, but he gave Louis a little smile too.

  
   

 

The next two days were a lot like the first one. The more Harry tried to act like he took up as little space as possible, the more space the man actually took up. And that quickly became all Louis could focus on. This was the main reason why he’d forgotten what tonight was supposed to be. This was also why it annoyed him to no end when a way too enthusiastic voice cheered in the entryway. Louis had been just about to settle into his armchair with a good book, while Harry was taking a shower; a lovely, well-deserved reprieve for Louis’ ears.

“Yoooooo, Louis! You ready to get your ass kicked?”

Liam Payne, his supposed best friend, walked in with a six-pack in hand and the wide smile he always wore, the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. Louis wanted to inform him that there was no reason to be _that_ happy all the time but he sighed heavily instead. Liam looked undeterred however — as always.

“I could make up a lie and say I’m sick, but I forgot about board game night.”

Louis had bigger fish to fry, to say the least.

“Please. Like I don’t find you curled up under a blankie three times out of four.” Liam ruffled Louis’ hair. He had the nerve to look fond and it only increased Louis’ irritation. Louis glared at him. Granted, he _was_ snuggled under a blanket with a hot beverage and a book on the coffee table but that was not a reason to—

“You’re the oldest thirty-four year old we know, Lou.” Liam offered cheekily as an explanation, like it was supposed to make the insult go down easier. It was a joke his friends used often, Louis just didn’t find it particularly funny.

Louis was about to retort with a well deserved _fuck you too_ , when Zayn, the last member of their gang, made his entry with Niall in tow.

“I love how you all make yourselves at home here. What happened to old fashioned ringing the bell?” The sarcasm was obvious, but there was no real heat behind it. The door was always left unlocked. Louis couldn’t even find a key if he tried. This was just how things went around there.

“Technically, this is my land as much as it is yours.” Niall said, unruffled, setting chips, a six-pack, and the games loudly on the dining table. That table was nicked and drawn on and had rings on the wooden top that wouldn’t come off, but it had always been here — just like everything else around the house. The creaking of the rickety chairs being pulled across the tile made Louis’ ears ring.

“What’s for dinner?” Zayn asked, as a form of greeting, already digging into one of the bags of chips.

“Louis was going to take his pre-supper grandpa nap when I came in,” Liam called back, as though Louis wasn’t sitting right there.

“I’ll have you know that I _work_ for a living! Not like you bunch of _teachers_.” Louis curled a lip in disdain at the words and fisted his fleece blanket into a ball that he threw carelessly towards Liam in retaliation. Louis was the sass master here. No one else.

“Hey! We do work, okay? It’s summer, we’re getting back to it in six short days anyway.” Zayn defended himself, although the pouty lip kind of made it hard to take him seriously.

“I do actual physical, hard labor. You sit on your asses and listen to your own voices for eight hours a day.”

“Do we need to have that argument every single week?” Niall asked around a mouthful of Cheetos. It was disgusting and, in Louis’ opinion, explained why the man was still single.

“Teaching is the most noble profession,” Harry cut in, seemingly out of nowhere. He was coming down the stairs, hair still damp from his shower forming ringlets around his ears. He smelled like fresh scented pine and honey and Louis wondered if anything had ever smelled that lovely in this house ever.

“And who do we have here?” Liam singsonged, looking delighted, and pointedly at Louis like he’d just walked in on a one night stand.

“That’s Harry, the new principal,” Niall exclaimed over the same mouthful of powdery orange snack as before.

“Wait, you’re our new boss?” Zayn raised a brow in surprise and Louis wondered how people that slow could be trusted with children. He didn’t refrain from sighing loudly this time.

“Guess so,” Harry shrugged casually, sitting across from Niall and Liam.

Liam extended his hand, like the eager brown-noser he was. Harry smiled as he took it in on his own.

“Firm shake,” Liam noted and Harry smiled warmly. At least that was something Louis could appreciate. There was nothing he respected less than someone who gave a limp handshake. “I’m the PE teacher,” Liam said proudly. “Zayn here teaches art, and Niall music.”

“And none of them teaches anything remotely useful for the kids to earn an income later!” Louis scoffed from the head of the table, rather proud of his delivery.

Everyone’s eyes turned to him at once, and he thought maybe he might have pushed a little too far again. He had a tendency to do that when his routine was upset or when his supposed friends ignored him in favor of an _interloper_.

Liam cleared his throat, after a rather long pause. “So, Louis, Harry is here because— ?”

All eyes stared at him and this was where Louis supposed he was to explain what Harry was doing here. Louis however ignored them; Harry was Niall’s problem, he decided. He could deal with it.

So, instead, he went to the kitchen to see what he could possibly feed his guests. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he turned deaf, so he had no choice but to listen to the conversation happening in the other room; and while Niall told the tale of how Harry came into their lives, Louis started on dinner.

“So how’s the ankle then?” Louis rolled his eyes at Niall’s question. As if Niall wasn’t the one yelling at Louis over the phone to take Harry to outpatients. As if he didn’t make Louis give him the blow by blow on all the details of Harry’s health while Louis was still sitting in the parking lot waiting for Harry to pick up his pain prescription. Such a sneaky bastard.

“Much better, the doctor said I should be as good as new in a day or two.”

While Louis started on setting the table, he could see how cosy his friends were already getting with his trespasser — _the_ trespasser — and it annoyed him to no end. Harry had both elbows on the table, while every pair of eyes was on him, and it seemed like he was enjoying the attention, a hint of red coloring the apples of his cheeks. He looked fresh and clean, like a shiny new toy  in a vintage toy store, slightly out of place, yet he belonged there somehow.

“Why am I always the one hosting board game night anyway?” Louis lamented.

“Board games? I love board games. Do you have Scrabble?” Harry perked up, turning all his attention to Louis, a smile creeping up into his eyes.

“Careful, this is how Liam got kicked out of the house last week,” Niall stage whispered in Harry’s ear. Liam nodded in confirmation as solemnly as he could, but Louis could see the mischief in his eyes all the way across the room. _Rude._

“Yes. No Scrabble. My house, my rules.” Louis looked around, addressing the whole table with emphasis. “If one of you hosted every once in a blue moon, you _could_ play Scrabble.”

Liam grunted, slumping back on his chair. “But you have the biggest house.”

Louis nodded wisely, Liam was not wrong. “Built it that way, didn’t I?”

The statement seemed to stir Harry’s attention back on him. He stared, curious and open.

“Really? You built it yourself?”

“With my own two hands.” He raised those hands, calloused and rough, as though it would explain the entire story.

“ _Our_ land, his house.” Niall smirked, folding his arms across his chest, and leaning back comfortably to make his point. “I like to remind him once in a while when he tries to kick us all out. The pulsing vein in his neck says it’s that kind of night.” Louis had an urge to kick the chair out from under him. Maybe another day. Maybe later that very night.

Everyone chuckled, but it was Harry who sent a questioning look Niall’s way.

“It’s my family’s land, neither me nor Teddy wanted to take over the logging business from my dad, so Louis here did, while Teddy and I went to college. And Louis built the house for them.”

Louis couldn’t help but feel pride as Harry looked at him in what Louis could only describe as awe. _He did that_.

“It was an honor and my pleasure,” Louis said quietly, more open than he would normally let himself be in front of a stranger.  

_Louis had known the Sheeran brothers his entire life. He grew up just down the road from them. But of the three of them, he was the only one who wanted to stand outside and log trees in and out of the forest, and to run the woodsplitter all day while Teddy and Niall’s mom would bring out glasses of lemonade and sandwiches. The fact that he actually got paid to do what he loved so dearly was a wonderful bonus._

_After the first summer, Teddy and Niall were extremely careful to have employment elsewhere for the holidays, but not Louis. He was so eager for the snow to melt, and the ground to dry up enough to get out there on the weekends and during summer when school was out._

_By the time Louis and Teddy were ready to graduate high school, he had been working for Mr. Sheeran Sr. for four years, and dating Teddy for almost two. In the midst of prom plans and college applications Teddy’s dad sat them down, along with Niall._

_“I want to talk about the business,” he said seriously. Louis felt Teddy tense beside him. He could see the wariness in Niall’s eyes. “I am not getting any younger. I would like to be certain that this land, that has been in the family for generations, will stay that way.” The guilt radiating off of Teddy beside him was palpable. Louis knew that Teddy had dreams. Big dreams that would take him away from his dad’s world. Louis was sure that Mr. Sheeran knew this too. Niall looked plain sick. He still had a couple of years of high school left, but Louis knew that his dream wasn’t to be left here with a chainsaw in his hand. Louis brought his gaze back to Mr. Sheeran who was looking over all of them seriously. “That’s why I think we should hand it down to Louis.” He finally smiled in Louis’ direction._

_“Louis?” Niall squeaked, not fully understanding the implications, but Louis did. So did Teddy, because suddenly there was a hand in his, and a huge smile on Teddy’s face._

_Louis couldn’t say what his face looked like because all he could think about was “Family”. He was having Ed’s family business passed on to him, meaning that Teddy’s parents saw him as family. He looked at Teddy, feeling dumbfounded and overwhelmed and totally inadequate._

_“Well?” Teddy nudged him a bit._

_“I just—  I don’t want to take—  of course I’m honoured— ”_

_“I want it to be alright with all three of you. This is all of your futures here.”_

_“I’m okay,” Teddy said immediately, almost crushing Louis’ hand in his own._

_“Fine by me,” Niall said dismissively, like the fifteen year old that he was. Louis knew that Niall didn’t realize what he was giving up, but Louis would never take something away from him that was rightfully his. He made a mental note to work that out later. This moment was a time for celebration._

_He knew his future, and it had never looked brighter._

_It was merely two years later that Louis held his phone as steady as possible as though it would make the picture more clear on FaceTime. Service out here was spotty on a good day, but even a grainy picture of Teddy was better than none. He smiled brightly as the ginger haired boy smiled right back at him, a furry ball of fluff curled in his arms._

_“Look at this paw Lou, I fixed it! The cat is brand new because of me.” Teddy jiggled the kitten a bit to show him the bandage. Louis was bursting with pride._

_“You’re going to be the greatest vet Canada ever saw.” Louis replied, heart so full it made his eyes sweat a bit. If Teddy laughed, it was because that was what Louis said every time Teddy told him about school. He was predictable, Louis, but it was important to him to tell Teddy, as often as he could, how much he supported him._

_“Enough about me, show me the house!” Teddy scratched the kitten’s belly absently, but his eyes were searching for a glimpse of the structure that Louis had been working on all month._

_“Well it’s not much of a house yet,” Louis replied sheepishly, suddenly feeling insecure about the whole thing, even though he was there in the middle of nowhere to show Teddy exactly that, and they both knew it._

_“I don’t care, show me the wall!” Teddy laughed, never losing his enthusiasm, a smile splitting his handsome face._

_Louis felt himself flush from a mixture of pride and affection because his man, his brilliant veterinary student boyfriend, was proud of him. He wanted this as much as Louis did. He carefully turned the phone around, trying to keep the focus._

_“Tadaaa!” Louis said softly, panning the expanse of the wall, logs all carefully cut and stacked by him alone. He turned the camera back on himself and Teddy sighed, smiling and he hugged the cat_ [ _tighter to his chest_ ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/a9d913714ef059de36ed4a67ab571ff0/tumblr_peai8h9uC91t96lsco1_540.jpg) _._

_“Don’t forget, I want a huge bedroom and a bathtub!” Teddy mock scolded him but that only made Louis laugh out loud._

_“How could I forget,” he said and then kissed his fingers before touching the screen._

_It would look funny on Teddy’s end, but he knew that Teddy understood, no one understood Louis like Teddy did. It meant Always & Forever. _

_Always & Forever. _

“Louis?” Harry’s soft voice intruded on his memory. His face was a mixture of confusion and concern. Louis shook off the nostalgia still lingering in the back of his mind.

“What?”

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.”

“Rabbit stew.” Speaking of which, Louis got up to check on the meal.

“You cooked a bunny?” Harry squeaked in horror.

Everyone started laughing at that, including Louis, but he didn’t turn around until he was sure he could school his expression into something more controlled. Then, he cocked his head, leaning on the kitchen’s doorway.

“Skinned it first.” He grinned, eyebrows wiggling, and he didn’t have to look at Harry to imagine the face he was making —  the gasp Louis heard was rewarding enough. Carefully, Louis brought the whole pot of stew to the dining table, right in front of Harry’s plate, because he was a cheeky bastard, then proceed to serve everyone. He sat down triumphantly at the opposite end of the table and immediately started eating, grin firmly in place. Niall was still laughing too hard to eat, while both Liam and Zayn were a mix of sympathetic and amused.

“You cooked a bunny,” Harry repeated, accusingly this time, his eyes travelling between his plate and Louis’ mouth. His shoulders sagged a little more with every movement of Louis’ jaw.

Torturing him shouldn't have been as amusing as it was.

"Relax. I didn't name him or anything," Louis replied, humming quietly after another bite, " _that_ would just be horrible". Niall snorted that much more louder when Louis winked. “Dig in Harry, come on, Thumper isn’t going to eat itself.”

Harry looked like he was going to be sick. Louis couldn’t be happier.

“Awww.” Liam grinned. “Harry really looks queasy. Louis wouldn’t—  ”

“Leeyum,” Louis cut in, unhappy about the turn of events. Can’t a man have _any_ fun?  “If you shut your trap for ten minutes straight, I won’t throw you out. Do you want to play your bloody Scrabble or not?”

Niall smirked and threw in his two cents then, “I don’t know why he even would, he’s an awful speller.”

The smile re-appeared on Harry’s face, so much so, that his dimples made an appearance. They were big and deep and the way they softened Harry’s face into something almost childlike made it a little hard for Louis to look away. Louis did anyway.

After dinner, they settled into the game, Niall insisted on pouring them all glasses of “CC”, Canadian Club rye whiskey, otherwise _he would really feel a hundred years old._ And normally, despite all his protests, Louis actually enjoyed board game night, because when everyone focused on the game, the small talk was reduced to a minimum. He suspected his childhood friends set it up four years ago so they would have a regular date, a legitimate reason to meet up, and break him out of his loneliness. The thing they didn’t seem to get however, is that he _liked_ his solitude thank you very much.

He was not lonely, he just liked to be alone.

Tonight — due to Harry’s presence, Louis was sure — the amount of pleasantries exchanged was at its peak, along with questions Louis wouldn’t bother asking and answers Louis couldn’t care less about. And they were all directed at Harry, of course.

“Where are you from?” Zayn asked first, which was completely out of character for him as he usually kept to himself outside of their group of friends. Goes to show how curious they all were.

“Halifax, originally. Born and raised.” Harry replied, the corner of his lips quirking up. If he wasn’t playing with the ring on his middle finger you wouldn’t even guess he was nervous.

“New Brunswick must be quite the change for a city boy, then?” Zayn chuckled easily, not even mocking Harry in the slightest. Louis snorted. Had Zayn seen Harry’s shoes? Did Harry think a runway was going to suddenly materialize in the middle of Louis’ woods?

It was a minute before the man answered. When he did, his words were said in the same annoying way he always spoke. Slow and mellow, like he had all the time in the world, and, much to Louis’ continued annoyance, every guest was hanging on every one of Harry’s words.

“Ummm, I guess,” Harry begun, thumbing at his bottom lip, bringing his foot under himself on the couch, “although I’ve lived in small towns before. Moved around a lot in the last few years.”

That seemed to pique Liam’s interest. “Oh? I’ve never really left this town, except, like, to go to college.”

“You moved into a dorm for three months, and ran back home to your mom,” Louis sassed, and that earned him a glare from Liam.

“Are you, of all people, going to give me shit for being a non-migratory bird?” He retorted. Louis shrugged, pretending to back out of the conversation again. Liam rolled his eyes, and looked back to Harry.

“Where did you go?” He asked eagerly.

“Umm. Took a year off before college, went backpacking through Europe with my boyfriend. Fell in love with Barcelona, out of love with him,” Harry continued. He kept looking over and over at Louis nervously, like he was trying to gauge Louis’ reaction. If he was worried that people were going to judge him around here for being queer, he was mistaken, they didn’t live in _that_ kind of small town. Louis didn’t do anything to reassure him though, he was too busy pretending he wasn’t listening.

Liam grimaced. “Ouch.”

“It’s okay, we’re still pals.” Harry cracked a smile, continuing his lifelong biography. “After that, I went to college in New York. After I graduated, I worked as an au pair in LA for a few months, while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.”

“Some people are just slow,” Louis offered, forever helpful. That earned him an elbow in the ribs from Liam and a tut from Niall, Harry didn’t seem to hear him, caught up in his storytelling.

“I taught English in Japan for a bit, then I worked in a library in a small village in Yorkshire in the UK, among other things.”

All of Louis’ friends seemed half dumbfounded, half enamored. Liam even had his mouth slightly ajar. Then again, it kind of was Liam’s regular face.

“Never wanted to plant some roots somewhere?” Niall asked, and it was something Louis would ask, too — if he cared, that is —  which he didn’t, clearly. He had always firmly believed that you needed roots, some solid foundation to be able to spread your wings and take flight. Otherwise you were just drifting, weightless, and that was something Louis never really understood. At least not for the better part of his life.

 _Wings to show you what you can become, roots, to remind you where you’re from,_ Teddy always said during his college years, when they were apart for the better part of the year. When Louis had sudden, irrational spikes of fear about holding his boyfriend back, Teddy’s words would ground and reassure him.

“No.” Harry replied with a heavy sigh, “Not yet anyway. I mean— Maybe someday? If I find the right job? The right person? I like to move around, I like being a temp. I get antsy if I stay in the same place for too long. Today I’m a principal, who knows what I’ll be next? A baker? A photographer? A barista?”

“A pain in the ass?” Louis deadpanned, [ palms up in the air](https://78.media.tumblr.com/fc3f1fc85d24130d01acc661eca3327e/tumblr_p06r9exKKN1ui5cuno2_540.png). He always had good timing.

“I seem to recall you like it to hurt a bit, Lou.” Liam smirked for a second before he barked out a laugh. Louis nearly spit his drink out. “I remember the giant purple marks you had on your neck all through high school. Drove Mrs. Boyle crazy. She would have kicked you straight home if she’d thought she could get away with it.”

Louis shot him his most icy, unimpressed look. The bad news was his friends had grown immune to it over the last twenty years. Louis needed new friends.

“How long are you here for?” Liam continued to bombard Harry with his questions. Louis sighed loudly, but no one was acknowledging him anymore at this point.

“Um, end of December, when the holidays start? Until Mrs. Paulson gets back from maternity leave in January.” Harry smiled and gave a shy look towards Louis, who was definitely not coming to his rescue. Louis focused on his Scrabble, trying to come up with some sort of dirty word to annoy Liam with.

Liam looked legitimately surprised. “You’re gonna stay with Lou until then? He could use a roommate.” This _did_ get Louis to look up, shock and horror surely written all over his face. Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, silently praying for God to give him strength.

“Leeyum.” It took a lot of patience to put up with Liam, no wonder Louis wanted to go to bed at nine every night.

“Actually, I’m gonna rent the place above Pixie’s, the flower shop? I made a few calls.”

“No you’re not,” Niall scoffed, laying down a word that totally messed with Louis’ turn.

“Yes, he is.” Louis replied as he flipped Niall off, for both the comment and his dirty Scrabble game.

“That’s worse than the motel! Louis, tell him! You have room here!” Niall lamented, gesticulating like Louis’ statement was a personal affront.

Harry cleared his throat, for once saying something useful, “I overextended my welcome already. Louis has been a gracious host— ” Niall snorted at that. “But It’s time for me to go, school starts soon, I’m almost healed. It’s fine.”

Louis, always ready to lend a hand, added, “I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Harry nodded his head politely, it made his curls bounce around his face and gave an air of finality to their conversation. At least as far as Louis was concerned.

“It’s settled, then.” Louis stared a hole into Niall’s soul, or at least he envisioned it that way. Niall just gave him a hard stare back, but didn’t offer anymore unsolicited comment.

They played three games of Scrabble, and drank almost an entire bottle of CC between the four of them.

When Harry had said that he liked Scrabble, he didn’t mention that he was crazy good at the game. While Louis hated to lose, he took a great deal of joy in seeing Liam’s enthusiasm strongly dashed by someone more competitive than all of the rest of them put together.

“Well well well.” Louis grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Li.” Liam smiled weakly as he put the game back in its box. “Maybe you all can enjoy game night at Harry’s new place next week!” He knew he was grinning like a maniac, and he knew that it looked fake as hell, but he didn’t care.

Niall took a deep breath, which Louis knew wasn’t a good sign. He almost cringed waiting for the loud bark that he expected from Niall’s mouth, but instead Harry piped up.

“Niall, remind me to give you back the book you loaned me. I’ve finished it!” He got up, but Niall rushed towards the stairs.

“Come on, get off your foot, I’ll get it,” he said, as he ran up to the guest room.

When Niall came back, Louis was busy clearing the table, and filling the sink. No one was in a hurry to go anywhere just yet, but he knew that if he didn’t get on top of it, Zayn would try to clean up for him, and he didn’t want that.

“Louis.” Niall came into the kitchen, book in hand, and frown lines creased on his forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you to empty Teddy’s closet before you do it?”

“Why are you rummaging through my closets again anyway?” He knew why. Niall was a nosy asshole, that was why.

“I went in Harry’s room and he had his bag and all his things scattered everywhere and I thought to myself, _why didn’t he put them in the closet_? Then I remembered. He can’t because you haven’t emptied the fucking closet.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ll be gone soon anyway,” Harry uttered behind them, voice brittle.

Louis gestured at Harry as though he just solved the problem. Niall shook his head apologetically to Harry. “This isn’t about that, Harry,” he said quietly as he turned back to Louis.

“It’s not about you either,” Louis reminded Niall, and went back to his task.

“It’s been four years. Empty. The. Damn. Closet,” Niall repeated through gritted teeth, pausing between each word. Louis turned back to him and crossed his arms defiantly.

“No.”

"Keeping all his clothes won’t bring him back. Why are you doing this to yourself?"  That look of sympathy Niall gave him is the one that Louis hated so damn much, and Niall fucking knew it.

“You sound like Liam.” Louis responded, trying to get some of the attention away from himself once again. He was so tired of this conversation. Honestly, he and Niall shouldn’t drink together; it always ended in disaster.

“Actually—  ” Liam said, raising his hand like he was in grade school.

“Actually, I just remembered that I have somewhere to be, so—  ” Louis looked around the room, waiting for them to clue in to his not-so-subtle hint. They didn’t clue in, of course they didn’t. He bit down around the stream of curses he was dying to let out. “Shut off the TV before you leave and—  I expect an empty house when I get back.”

He turned around before anyone could argue, absentmindedly grabbing the axe propped up by the door.

 

   

 

He made it as far as the edge of the clearing. He didn’t really have anything to do. Of course he didn’t, he wasn’t fooling anyone. It was dark, and the mosquitoes were already loathsome, but he was not going back inside until all of the noise in the house stopped, until all the noise in his head stopped.

He glanced around, the frustration in his belly growing out toward his limbs, making them ache to do something. He looked down at the small wood pile at his feet, the axe in his hand, and felt around in his pocket for the lighter he always kept. He’d have to work with what he had.

When he heard the rustle of leaves behind him, he hadn’t been outside for long. He knew that it could be any one of them following him out here, as though he was an injured child needing care. He wasn’t, he just needed people to leave him alone. He turned, ready to tell just that to whoever it was, but his tongue stopped when he saw that it was Harry. He hadn’t expected him.

Carrying two full glasses with him, one in each hand, Harry sat down gracefully on a dead log close to where Louis was standing, and placed one of the glasses beside him while he took a delicate sip of the other.

“They’re gone,” he said, tentatively breaking the silence.

Louis fell the axe thickly through an already partially splintered log, working hard to seem non-committal.

“Good,” he said, as he raised his arms, and brought the axe down on the chunk of wood again.

“For what it’s worth, they looked a bit sad when they left,” Harry continued, talking between the noise of the splitting wood.

Louis emitted an audible, long breath and rubbed a frustrated hand over his face, wiping away the sweat there. “They always do.”

Chop. Chop chop chop. The axe whipped through the air regularly. Little chunks of wood flew in every direction. The only thing that could be heard was Louis’ heavy, strained breathing clashing with Harry’s steady one. He was still sipping calmly on his CC, fixing a strand of hair behind his ear from time to time.

Harry dug the point of his boot in the dirt, looking at the ground in great interest. “I could fire them all. I’m technically their boss, you know.”

That elicited a surprised snort from Louis. He actually had to lower the axe to let it out. Harry gave him a cheeky grin, tongue stuck between his teeth at the corner of his mouth, evidently proud of his delivery.

“It’s fine, Harry. I’m not mad.” He brought his axe up once more before he gently laid it on the side of the neat, little pile of kindling that he had created.

When he gestured towards the glass at Harry’s feet, Harry got the hint and handed it over to him with a gentle smile, followed by a squeeze of Louis’ wrist. Louis ignored it, knowing Harry meant for it to be a comforting gesture. Louis didn’t want it. He wasn’t sure he deserved it.

Not from Harry, anyway.

Louis lifted his drink in a silent cheers before gulping half of it in one go. The burn in his throat helped ease down the lump that was lodged there.

“You’re not mad?” Harry asked, sounding disbelieving. “You kicked them all out.”

“They would never leave otherwise!” Louis defended himself. “They think I need company, like I’m some recluse that waits for visitors to come brighten their day.” He crouched down to mess with his wood pile and began to set a small fire. “Really, I’m doing them a favour. Now they’re off the hook for another week.”

“You lie to them to protect them,” Harry said, sounding somewhat unimpressed.

“Who lied?” Louis replied with his back to Harry. “Not me.”

“So you had important business out _here_?”

“Of course.” Louis lied as he turned, and sat back down beside Harry, the light glow of the fire gaining strength in front of them. They both stared at it in comfortable silence for a moment.

“The room you sleep in—   ”

Harry looked at him, tilting his head to the side in interest, silently inviting Louis to go on. Louis drew in a deep breath, feeling the lump rise again in his throat. He took another swallow of the amber liquid encouragement glowing in his glass.

“It was the master bedroom. I haven’t slept there since— ” Louis sighed and had to look away. “Anyway, that’s why his clothes are there, in case you were wondering.”

Louis didn’t know why he felt the need to explain it. Must be the whiskey. Or the need to know that he hadn’t gone completely crazy. Someone was bound to get where he was coming from, right? Grieving was a thing, right?

He was a widower. Even if he had never been able to say the words out loud, he knew it, despite how much in denial Niall thought he was.

Harry nodded. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Louis. Not to your friends, and certainly not to me.”

Louis ran his fingers through his short beard. He let out the longest sigh and felt his shoulders sag in exhaustion or relief — maybe a bit of both. Like everything caught up to him all of a sudden. Harry was right, he really didn’t owe anyone any explanation. The moment hung between them, quiet and still before Louis stood up again. He nodded once and made his way back inside.

“Good night Harry,” he threw over his shoulder. He hoped the un-uttered _thank you_ was audible between the words.

 

                 

 

There was something to be said about Harry Styles’ acting skills. The way he acted when Louis drove him to sign his lease was nothing short of a grand performance. He was well-mannered and obliging where Louis would have shoved the lease right up the landlord’s ass if he was in Harry’s place.

And yet, when Lisa gave them the tour, a cigarette never leaving her lips, Harry was all delighted interest and polite smiles. Except the place they were visiting was a dump. The walls were smoke stained, the staircase smelled like piss, and Louis would be convinced the traces on the floor were leftovers from a crime scene if he didn’t live in Abateemat, the quietest village you could imagine.

Louis shivered as he noticed the tape serving as a lock on the window. This was Canada, Harry was going to freeze to death if he stayed here until December.

Throughout the tour (which was short, the place was no bigger than a shoebox, it was even smaller than Niall’s place for Christ’s sake), Harry attempted to be positive while Louis tried to pretend it was okay to willingly let another human being live there.

The last straw came in the form of Harry dropping his bag on the bed, startling a mouse that was living nearby.

Feeling all of his resolve fly out the old drafty windows, Louis grabbed the bag and grumbled.

"Get in the truck."      

Harry looked up, rooted to his spot on the rusty bed, biting at his bottom lip in hesitance; he looked a lot younger than twenty-eight all of a sudden.

Louis felt the air around them slow down, the dust motes in the dingy glow of the sun dancing between the two of them. He felt at a crossroads, and there was a significance to the words he uttered, the choice he was making. He heard the creak of the floorboards down the hall as Lisa chased the mouse and he could see the way Harry’s eyes were fixed on him, and there was an innocence there that made everything slow, made everything go a little fuzzy for Louis. _What was he doing?_

Then, like a switch being flipped, Louis cleared his throat and filled his chest with air, knowing this was it.                    

"Get in the truck." Louis repeated, impatiently. His conscience might dictate he had to be a good samaritan, but nothing forced him to be a gracious one, alright?

Harry didn’t even put up a fight. Instead, the corners of his mouth quirked up, he got his bag without a word and headed out.

While Harry got in the truck, suitcase securely on his lap, Louis thought the nagging feeling in his gut was a sign he might end up regretting his decision.

 

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I would write a fic without mentioning Susan Boyle? Please.
> 
> I’m aware FaceTime wasn’t invented yet for Ed and Louis to have been using it, but roll with it.
> 
> Please [talk to me](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/ask) about the Ed/Louis prequel I want to write so badly even though no one wants it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Being alone never felt right. Sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right.”

\- Charles Bukowski, Women

 

Harry started his first official day as principal by taking a walk around his new school. Aside from settling into Louis’ house, the last week had been a flurry of meeting new people, remembering new names, and oh so much paperwork. But it all lead up to this. The students were going to be here in less than an hour, and everything felt like a new opportunity and a fresh start. He tried to soak up the feeling, thrive on it. He always enjoyed first days. He’d had a lot of them.

He barely made it into his office when he was met with Miss Russell, his assistant, standing straight as an arrow beside his desk. She had been the first person Harry had met at the school and had been quick to show him the ropes. She might be immeasurably useful, but Harry found her uptight and intimidating, despite barely scraping 1,50 m. Her domineering manner wasn’t helped by the fact that she was wearing stilettos and a tight pencil skirt, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, giving her the severe appearance of a strict nun.

She was sporting a scowl so pronounced right now that Harry felt the need to look behind his shoulder to check if she was really glaring at him. There was no one there.

For a brief second, that cold, hard stare reminded Harry of someone.

She cleared her throat, catching Harry’s attention immediately.

“Mister principal,” she greeted shortly, extending a hand and holding the folder in her arm a little tighter to her chest.

“Nice to see you again, Casey,” Harry answered warmly, smiling for good measure and shaking her hand in both of his. “Please, I told you to call me Harry.”

“Like I said before, I’d rather not, sir,” she proclaimed, a little higher than she wanted, it seemed, given that her cheeks turned faintly rosy. “I’m not too fond of familiarity in the workplace.”

“Okay then, _Casey_.” Harry had to suppress a laugh. “I’m sorry but I can’t call you Miss Russell, it was my dog’s name growing up,”he lied, for kicks. Harry had always had a tongue in cheek kind of humour, sue him. Meeting guarded people, be it Casey or Louis, had always brought out that side of him naturally, too.

Without fail, she glared. Without fail, Harry was delighted.

“We have a number of things for you to go over before the students start coming in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry clicked his tongue and gave her a military salute. She just looked taken aback but it didn’t deter Harry.

He made himself comfortable on the plush chair while she resolutely stayed standing beside him, only leaning down to the desk a few beats later to make him sign teachers’ schedules and bulk orders for the hockey team’s new uniforms. Harry’s pencil scraping over paper was the only sound disturbing the silence for a while.

“You know Casey, I’m only here for four months, what if I cancelled all sports and forced everyone to take ukulele lessons as extracurriculars instead?” He joked, “It wouldn’t be my mess to fix afterwards anyway.”

Casey didn’t bat an eyelash. _Tough crowd,_ he thought _._ People usually warmed up to him really fast, with one (or _two)_ exceptions and if Casey was just a hard egg to crack, Harry liked a challenge.

“Aren’t you going to take this seriously?” She scolded, eyebrows furrowing before abruptly rising, presumably when she remembered Harry was her boss, “I mean, sir. I already have my hands full with Niall Sheeran and his gang of goons. They wear sneakers to come to work for Christ’s sake.” Her mouth set in a hard line once her judgmental eyes zeroed in on Harry’s torso. He _could_ button his shirt up a bit more, that was true.

He didn’t intend to.

“I’ve learned that it’s better not to be too stressed! _Work Hard, Play Hard_ is a motto I live by, you should try it.” He flashed her his best crooked smirk, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. It was a move that had worked in the past on women and men alike.

It backfired because one thing was certain, if looks could kill, Harry would be a dead man.

Casey didn’t reply, choosing to nervously put a curl that escaped her bun tightly behind her ear. Harry continued, undeterred, as an idea popped into his mind.

“What’s the next event happening in the school? Maybe we can make it special.”

She seemed startled as she went to adjust the little golden plaque fixed on the office door with Harry’s name on it. It wasn’t even crooked.

“Sir, um, there are no school events scheduled,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean? What about homecoming? Rallies? School dances?”

She shook her head no, before biting her lip and looking away.

“Prom?” Harry almost cried. That couldn’t be true. He might have been in the tiniest town he has ever visited, there was bound to be something that exemplified the school’s _heart_. There had to be. Her answer was an unwavering no.

“But—  how can you not have any school spirit events? Like, this is—  I’ve never heard of something like that before. ”

“There’s a reason for that, sir,” she explained, words stammering out of her mouth rapidly, “Sixteen years ago there was an accident. Well, not really an accident— err, well, there was a group of pranksters who began with fairly harmless pranks at school events, often targeting the principal. I was a freshman here at the time, and things escalated, until they went too far the day of the winter formal. It appeared that these _delinquents_ took screwdrivers with them to school and randomly unscrewed things over the course of months? Non-essential screws so that whatever they were removing screws from was still left intact? And the screws were delivered to the principal every day with no context. It was driving her mad."

Harry barked out a laugh. “That’s genius.”

“Well that’s not what principal Boyle thought at the time,” she snarked. “Anyway, it was funny and somewhat harmless until the whole stage fell down during the principal’s prom speech and she ended up literally head over heels in the middle of the debris… ”

Harry let out a long whistle. It must have cost a fortune in insurance and repairs.

“She wasn’t harmed, but that woman knew how to hold a grudge. And all school dances have been canceled since.”

“She didn’t reinstate them when the pranksters got caught?”

“That’s the thing though, they never got caught, even though I knew _exactly_ who it was.” She looked at her watch distractedly then, adjusting her glasses. “It’s almost 7:50. We still have a ton of things to do.” She put the folder she was holding into his hands and turned around to enter her own adjoining office without another word.

Instead of getting busy with the folder in front of him, Harry pulled it close to his chest, bottom lip caught between his thumb and index finger, mulling over the information his assistant had shared, clicking his tongue until the clock over his desk hit 8 o’clock.

_Show time._

 

  

Walking with a lively step, Harry made his way to the gym where he was scheduled to do his first speech to the student body. As he reached the gymnasium, his eye was caught by a grainy black and white picture, hung on the wall just beside the entrance door. He hadn’t noticed it when Casey had given him the tour. The worn out picture seemed familiar to him, so he took a closer look.

It was Teddy — _Ed —_  the same round, friendly face that surrounded him all day at home. But he looked younger there: [ a young boy in a hockey uniform](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A7KwLWFCAAA7FBc.jpg), still smiling wide, just like every other picture that Harry had seen of him. The caption below read _Edward Christopher Sheeran, athlete, humanitarian, and friend to all. Forever remembered by Maple Ridge High School 02/17/1983 - 06/10/2013._

Harry was a bit surprised to say the least. Ed couldn’t be the only person that had gone to this school who had passed away. He couldn't see any other memorials dedicated to former students so this particular loss must have been felt quite deeply by more than just Harry’s current roommate.

He spent a moment studying the picture and wondered briefly if Ed was taken before his time by an illness or an accident, before his thoughts circled back to Louis.

Harry felt a little foolish for not realizing right away that Louis was a widower — despite all the evidence jumping out at him ever since he did, from the untouched closet to the scattered memorabilia. Most of all, it showed in the way Louis carried himself sometimes, like he had lost one too many battles.

Harry paid his respects to Ed before he entered the gym to meet the students.

He went directly to the little podium that had been set up for him, surely by Casey, who already stood behind it, like some kind of first lady ready to go. It was a little noisy, with the students not really noticing his arrival and chatting between themselves, and the professors catching up with each other in the front row.

Casey grabbed the microphone before Harry even stepped foot on the platform. “Attention please,” she commanded, before trotting back to her previous spot in the back.

“Hello!” Harry began joyfully and everybody winced at the acoustic feedback. “Hi! Hello, umm, I’m Harry Styles, your new principal for the foreseeable future.” From where he stood, he had a clear view of both Niall and Liam’s encouraging smiles in the front row. Zayn was yawning, looking barely alive, clearly not a morning person.

While Harry introduced the new school year, he gave emphasis to things like “school spirit” and the importance of having fun while learning. Niall kept nodding and sending little waves of his hand, or so Harry thought, until Casey grunted behind him and Harry realised Niall had been looking at her all along.

“Since I’m only here for four months— ” Harry didn’t let himself get sidetracked. “I’d like to put my money where my mouth is, and I’ve decided to reinstate the winter formal extravaganza as my parting gift to you all.”

The crowd, which had been looking fairly bored and quiet until then, started buzzing, with some cheers even erupting. Liam, Niall, and Zayn looked like deer caught in the headlights, stunned into silence.

Casey, unsurprisingly, didn’t look happy when she put her perfectly manicured fingers on the microphone to muffle the sound of her scolding.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Her stare, jarring and calculating reminded him of the way Louis had looked at him since the day they met, so it’s not surprising that the first thing that came out of his mouth was—  

“My school, my rules.”

  
  

 

The first day of school was as hectic as would be expected for a new principal, but  judging by the curious stares he earned when he walked the hallways, Harry was sure there was an extra buzz brought on by his announcement about the dance. Or maybe it was because of the way he dressed. Granted, his designer jeans and barely buttoned, patterned shirts clashed a great deal with the plaid shirts and Levi’s everyone seemed to be wearing around here. And that wasn’t even taking into account the multiple rings adorning his fingers.

As he headed towards the cafeteria — after standing his ground against his assistant’s wrath — Niall caught up to him, a little out of breath.

“Harry!” He yelped, “you’ve been here thirty seconds and you’re already making changes!” Despite what he was saying, Niall looked positively in awe.

Harry smirked. That’s just what Harry liked to do, if he was honest. Coming into a new job and leaving his mark, then he would be off to new adventures. Some of his co-workers used to call him the tornado, he prefered thinking of himself as a modern day Mary Poppins. Today he was one of the youngest principals in Canada (he checked), and he was determined to make this temp mission worth his while, fresh and interesting. He was off to a good start.

“Casey and I went over the budget and apparently we can’t afford it, but I promise you it’s happening. There _will be_ a winter formal. If you want to be on the committee just say the word. We’re going to need ways to raise money for that thing.” He made it sound way more cool that it was actually going to be, another one of his skills.

“Is Miss Russell going to be part of the committee?” Niall asked, staring at his shoes, wringing his hands together in front of his chest. Harry didn’t know if Niall was hoping for a yes or a no. Harry was inclined to think it was the former.

“Yes. She wants me on a short leash.” Harry winked. “Very bossy, that one, I couldn’t say no.”

“Then I’m in!” Niall beamed, rolling back onto his heels, “I’ll gladly be part of any prom homecoming committee thingie or whatever.”

“Winter formal.” Harry smiled crookedly.

“Yes, that!”

As they walked, they passed another framed picture, near the glass case full of hockey trophies, and Harry immediately recognised Teddy this time. He tried not to stare, especially since Niall was there, but he wondered yet again, how many Sheeran shrines there were in his school. It was not that he was creeped out or anything, but he never was one to live in the past. His life had always been fast paced, borderline hectic and this town was anything but. From every angle, as far as Harry could tell, It felt like Abateemat had been frozen in time. It reminded him of Storybrooke, the town deprived of magic in the tv-show “[ Once Upon a Time ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rga4rp4j5TY)”. From the old fashioned diner downtown with the worn out benches, to the little stores adorning each side of Main Street showcasing the same timeless plaid collections. It’s not that Harry disliked it, far from it, he enjoyed the homey feeling small towns provided, it was just he had never been one for— stagnation, for lack of a better word.

“You want to get lunch with the coolest kids in school?” Niall enquired, effectively pulling Harry from his reverie.

“Niall, I don’t think it’s wise for me to have lunch with the students,” Harry rushed, a little frazzled, “I already look too young— ”

“I meant us. Me, Li, and Zayn.” Niall said lamely. “The coolest!”

“I’m sure you are.” Harry had to grin. Niall was so endearing. If the rest of the Sheerans were anything like Niall, it was no wonder they were so popular in this town.

“Come on,” Niall pushed, already steering Harry along towards the teachers’ lounge. “All the other professors are old anyway, they’d bore you to death. We have our own table and everything.” Niall’s eagerness made it sound a lot fancier than the simple nicked table the other boys were already seated at, but Harry sat down easily, waving everyone hello, feeling happy to be welcomed with open arms in this new environment. Not that Harry had trouble making friends in general, but this was nice nonetheless.

They small talked mostly about school gossip for a while. Liam was extremely eager to let Harry know about the ins and out of Maple Ridge High and Harry nodded along in all the right places munching on a sandwich and sipping from an apple juice box. He waited what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time before asking the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Okay, that was a lie, it had been more like a week, ever since he stepped foot in Louis’ house really.

“Sooo. Can I ask about Ed?” It came out less smooth than he’d aimed for, so he winced at his own curiosity, the whole table falling quiet because of it.

Zayn and Liam kept looking at Niall, who was eyeing Harry, lips pursed, like he was pondering what he should say. It was unusual for Harry to feel unsettled, but it had happened more often that he could count since he moved to Abateemat and this was exactly how he felt now, stared down by the least threatening human he’d ever met in his entire life.

“It’s just—  he’s everywhere, yeah?” Harry felt the need to explain, ignoring his own knee bouncing under the table. “And I don’t think I’m allowed to ask at home?” He cringed. “I mean at the _house.” Jesus. Way to dig your own grave Styles._ “I’m half expecting to find a statue of him in the middle of city hall? I just saw his trophies, he’s like a fucking legend—  ”

“He was. He is,” Liam cut in, Zayn nodding along in agreement. “He was a great hockey player when we went to school here, went to University on a full scholarship. He could have gone pro if he wanted to, but he chose to be a vet, you know? And come back home to serve his city, come back to Louis, to us. He could have become mayor in a few years.”

“He was just Teddy to me,” Niall said openly, now that Liam had broached the subject. “But yes, Harry, I can see how it would feel that way.” Niall didn’t seem deterred by the subject, not the way Louis was anyway, in fact Niall looked quite fond, talking about his brother, like he was happy to reminisce. Harry got the impression that Teddy wasn’t brought up all that much, that would explains the stiffness when he was mentioned. “I mean once you see him eat his boogers it’s impossible.”

“We were ten,” Liam said at the same time as Zayn added, “It was for a bet!”

“Yeah whatever. I stopped wanting to be in your clique after that.” Niall smirked, tossing a greasy napkin Liam’s way, then turning all his attention back to Harry. “What _I_ want to know is how living with Louis has been.”

“Oh, um, you know I live there?”

“Of course I know silly, we all do.”

“Oh, I just thought that since he threw you all out the other day you’d—  ”

They all snorted and Harry felt a little foolish, like he was missing out on an inside joke.

“We’re used to Louis’ drama queen ways, don’t you worry. It was all forgotten by morning.” The ghost of a smile was suspended on Niall’s lips. “He refuses to move on but I refuse to let him stay put.  That’s just how we roll.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that working out for you?” Liam snarked. “It’s been four years and he’s still grieving.”

“He’s just not ready yet,” Harry attempted and the three of them turned to look at him at once.

They didn’t have the time to ask what the hell Harry was talking about before Liam steered the subject back to the question before, a hint of delight in the eye.

“Tell us man, on a scale of one to Louis, how _Louis_ has he been with you so far?”

“Ummm.” Harry scratched at the back of his head in embarrassment, he didn’t know if he was supposed to play along and roast Louis — the man _did_ go to bed before 10 pm for crying out loud, there was plenty of material there — or if he was expected to defend him, like some sort of test he had to pass. It didn’t really matter anyway because there were plenty of nice things to say about Louis, despite his rough, abrasive exterior. The man did open his house to a total stranger, without asking for any compensation no less, which was a sign of a good hearted man in Harry’s book. Even if the good heart was buried under a great, great, _endless_ pile of attitude. The frail truce they shared after Louis kicked his friends out of the house was short lived, Louis going back to ignoring Harry most of the time and that was when he was even home. Harry didn’t know if it was his presence that drove Louis out of the house that often or if he had always overworked himself that much.

“He’s been alright.” Harry settled on, as non-committal as he could be. “I take care of the cooking, so at least there’s no risk of accidentally eating any more bunnies.” That made the boys grin and nod appreciatively which meant he’d given an acceptable answer. He hid the joy their reaction brought him as best he could behind a crooked smile and a scrunched nose.

In any case, it was true that Harry tried to be a nice house guest by keeping the place clean and cooking the meals in the hopes Louis would start warming up to him. Harry was fairly certain he got Louis humming from tasting his meatloaf, so it was just a matter of time before Harry won him over. His grandma always said the key to a man’s heart was his stomach. Not that he was trying to win Louis’ heart over. _Obviously._ Especially since Harry was never the type that needed to be loved by everyone, it just happened that most people _liked_ him, so Louis acting the way he did around Harry was a little unsettling.

“He’ll warm up to you, once he gets to know you,” Niall said, sensing Harry was treading carefully, and the two other men acquiesced, “He’s a caretaker, you’ll learn.”

Harry had a lot of trouble believing that.

He pushed the negative thought out as quickly as it had crossed his mind. Things with Louis were going to get better, Harry thought, swallowing the last bite of his sandwich and turning back into the conversation. They had to.

  
  

 

After school, Harry poured his restless energy into making dinner, whistling and stirring the veggies in the frying pan so they wouldn’t stick, while keeping an eye on the boiling water for the noodles. He heard the familiar creak of the front door just as he started to add more fresh, aromatic herbs from the garden into the pan.

“Hey, Louis!” Harry threw joyfully over his shoulder, “How was your day?” Louis didn't bother replying, but he levelled Harry with a look that was impossible to decipher (he was—  surprised?), before sitting at the kitchen table and dragging a tired hand across his face. He unfolded the newspaper that had been left there since morning.

“Mine was fabulous. I love first days.” Harry continued. By now, he was practically used to having one-sided conversations, so it didn’t deter him as much as it did the week before, especially with the leftover giddiness still bubbling hot in his belly. “I met the kids, had lunch with your friends, worked out the schedules, brought the winter formal back from the dead— ”

“Winter formal?” Louis’s eyes darted up for a brief second, “I thought the school banned all the events, at least that’s um— how things went, back when I attended.” Louis cleared his throat. “Since my senior year, actually.”

“I’m reinstating it,” Harry said confidently, throwing another clove of garlic basketball style into the pan, without missing. “One prank, sixteen years ago shouldn’t kill the school spirit, wouldn’t you agree?” Harry was fully prepared for Louis to brush it off, he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy —  well — fun.

As Louis got up to grab a beer from the fridge, handing one to Harry (that was new), he began to rant (that was _definitely_ new), “That ban was the stupidest decision Boyle ever made, if you ask me. Such a stuck up—  ” Louis stopping mid sentence was not the weirdest thing he has ever done since Harry had met him, but it was pretty close and it piqued Harry’s curiosity. He made a mental note to ask the boys about it. Louis changed the subject as quickly as it came, peeking into the pan where the water was now bubbling quietly. “You know you don’t have to cook, like, for us—  for me. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” Louis’ voice came out way softer that it did just a second ago, or maybe Harry was just imagining that.

“I like cooking! Plus it’s my way of helping out around the house.” It was his way of paying rent, he thought, but didn’t say.

Louis squinted and smelled the air, nose scrunching in a way that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. “What—  what even are you cooking, Harry?”

“It’s a vegetarian recipe I learned in Asia, Sauteed dandelions!”

Louis’ face turned from curious to appalled in a heartbeat. "Veg— we're not cows, Styles!” Louis mused, horrified as he took a closer look at the stove. “We eat meat around here! Do you know how many calories I burn every day logging wood?”

“But— it’s healthy and delicious. It’s like a mix between arugula and kale,” Harry pouted, draining the noodles in the sink, “Jasper would eat it.”

“You mean my horse you’re scared to death of?”

As much as he was protesting, Louis was still taking a seat at the table, so Harry began to mix the noodles with the dandelions. The olive oil blending with garlic licked at his nostrils in the most delicious way.

“Yes, the baby dinosaur you have the audacity to call a horse,” Harry joked. Well, he was mostly joking anyway.

“Hey, stop that, he’s my best friend.” The drag of the chair suggested that Louis had risen to his feet, Harry paid it no mind though, he was also getting used to Louis’ short temper. Louis just went to the sink to wash his hands and throw some cold water on his face. Sighing loudly when he dried it with a towel.

The man clearly missed the peace and quiet he used to have once he got home after a long day and Harry didn't even take it personally, nor did he blame him, Harry also usually enjoyed a little silent time to unwind after school. But Harry’s hours were also way shorter than Louis’ so by the time Louis got home, Harry had time to watch some tv, unload the dishwasher, collect the eggs from the henhouse, take a shower, change his clothes, and almost finish preparing dinner.

“That whole sentence says so much about you, Louis.” Harry teased, getting a kick out of riling Louis up. He’d decided a glass of white wine would go splendidly with his dish earlier, so he’d put a bottle in the fridge’s door. Now was the time to open it. Maybe it would help Louis unwind a little. His shoulders looked so tense all the time, Harry was itching to loosen the muscles in Louis’ back. In a totally normal, non-creepy, friendly way of course. Louis was just so wired, it made Harry feel like _he_ was on edge too.  

“How can you not like Jasper? He’s the sweetest. Like, he likes people. He— ” If only Louis got as animated for real life human beings as he did for his horse.              

"He looks like he's about to eat me!" It was true. Jasper looked like an elephant, despite how cute Louis thought he was. And as much as he wanted to be, Harry was not that good with animals in the first place, people were more his thing.                    

"Harry, horses are— ” Louis started, fumbling for words, but seemingly adamant about his point, “Jasper is a vegetarian, just like you, apparently."

Louis smirked, like his line was supposed to be a jab, but mirth danced in his eyes.                

"See you can like _some_ vegetarians!" The way they bantered felt like a small victory. It was the longest conversation they had since Harry moved in, so he would take it.                      

“I can’t believe you’re trying to feed me something people work really hard to get rid of. It’s considered the most annoying of weeds, you know?”

The _just like you_ was implied.

Louis poked at his food like it was poisoned and Harry began to feel his patience running short.

"And Jasper is useful, I can ride _him_ at least!" Louis clamored.

As soon as the words were out, Louis’ fork plummeted over his plate and the anger that was beginning to prickle under Harry’s skin evaporated leaving only delight in its place.

"The way that came out was unfortunate," Louis said quietly. And was that a blush creeping up his neck? It was hard to tell with his beard, but Harry could swear it was one. Feeling magnanimous, Harry got up, and brought the last dish that was waiting in the oven.

He uncovered the nice piece of chicken he’d prepared, and put it in the middle of the table. “Here, grumpy.”

“That doesn’t look so bad.” The corners of Louis’ mouth turned up as he poked at it with his knife. “And it doesn’t smell so bad either.”

“If I squint hard enough, that almost sounds like a compliment.” Harry had trouble biting back the smile that threatened to split his face when Louis chuckled even if he caught himself quickly.

The banter was soon replaced with comfortable silence, where Louis seemed to begrudgingly enjoy the food. Harry let him be, for the time being, knowing how much Louis hated small talk. His eyes fell on Louis’ hands, not having anything else to focus on. It’s something Harry had always enjoyed doing, watching people’s hands. They say eyes are a window to the soul, but Harry disagreed.

The hands were.

Hands showed where you had been, each line, each scar a potential story attached to it. Louis’ hands were small, but tanned and calloused. They looked like they belonged to a hard working man, strong and solid, but somehow still delicate, surely because of their size. His nails were short and clean, but his palms looked like they’ve been rubbed with light sandpaper. Harry liked them, he decided.

After dinner, Louis loaded the dishwasher (he insisted), and Harry washed the pans in the sink, while Louis dried them. It was all very domestic and weird at the same time. Afterwards, Louis took a well-deserved shower but then, instead of taking the route of the couch like he usually did, he approached Harry, who was currently catching up on the TV news.

“We’re going for a walk.”

The way Louis said it, Harry knew it was not a suggestion, but he didn’t care, he’d been eager to see the woods, see the property more closely. He said as much, trying to keep the eagerness to a minimum. “I’d love to explore for a bit.”

“You mean _legally_ , this time.”

While Harry rolled his eyes, Louis clapped a satisfied hand on the back of the couch where Harry was seated. “I’m going to show you what we eat around here.” Louis’ smirk was nothing short of predatory. Harry deflated instantly.

“I gather you’re not leading me to the store for that, are you?”

Louis laughed. “You’re catching up.”

Harry fumbled to his feet, following Louis who had already reached the front door, wondering not for the first time since he got there, why when Louis asked, Harry followed blindly.

  
  

 

The walk to the woods was as quiet as it could be when someone like Harry Styles was involved. Evidently, the man couldn’t be silent for five minutes if his life depended on it. Louis suspected it was because he made Harry nervous, which was just as well. God forbid this lanky, _tall,_ mouthy nuisance made himself even _more_ at home in his house. He already took up so much space as it was. Louis wondered briefly if he should make more of an effort to talk back though (not for Harry’s sake of course, never that) but because Louis realized the more silent he stayed, the higher in pitch Harry’s voice got, as he continued his tale about his eventful day (his words, Louis would beg to differ).

He could hear the sound of Harry’s boots squishing against the muddy path every time he took a breath (hint: not often). The greenery was rather luxurious as soon as you left the house and barn. Following the uneven, winding path, he was leading Harry to the spot he’d been working on, entirely giving up on showing him the wildlife around the property after about two minutes.

Uncharacteristically, the path was clear, worn down by the number of walks Louis took going back and forth over the years. The smell was quite distinctive too, earthy and humid — not unpleasant, just familiar, and capable of enveloping all senses. Louis was used to it, but every time he stepped foot in town, he found himself missing it, the smell of home. This was his turf, this is where he belonged. He never felt more at ease than he did there, outdoors, surrounded by nature.

As they stepped deeper into the woods, the sun beginning to set, painting the green with pink and gold, Harry stopped to smell the air around them.

“Thank you for taking me, I love the smell of the woods.”

“Uh huh.” Louis levelled him with an unimpressed stare.

“What? It’s true!”

“You talk like a true city boy.” It wasn’t a compliment but Harry didn’t seem to notice, too busy flashing a dimpling smile (was it supposed to look charming?).

“Hey, I can blend in easily. That’s like my best quality.”

Louis snorted at that. “Blending in? In that outfit? Good one. I hate to break it to you, but you stick out like a sore thumb, you might as well walk around with a sign hanging from your neck stating you’re the new man candy in town.”

Harry pouted. “But I’m wearing plaid and everything.”

That he was. Louis noticed as soon as he got home, how could he not? Harry was wearing not one, but [ _two_ plaid shirts](https://78.media.tumblr.com/d221719ea03a35b5d142c46ffd070d0f/tumblr_nxufyyzR3A1rqxe8fo1_500.png), one on top the other, both ruby red and blue, with different sizes in pattern and both opened almost to his belly button, showing off the better part of his smooth, inked up chest. There was a cross on a necklace snuggly hanging between his pectoral muscles. It was ridiculous, the boy was trying too much, but Louis couldn’t deny it kind of suited him. A little. _Maybe_. But the rest? Black jeans so tight that Louis wondered how Harry could even bend in them, let alone walk? And the holes in the knees, that were clearly meant to give him a casual, cool look? Please. And that was not even the worst.

“You’re walking in the woods in suede chelsea boots.”

 _That_ finally managed to shut Harry up. Well that wasn’t true. But it should have. If there was a God above, that is. And if said God took pity on Louis once in a blue moon, which He never did.

Harry must have been under the impression Louis was bantering (he was not) because he elbowed Louis lightly in the ribs and—  chuckled. The barking sound made two birds leave their nest at the top of a pine tree close by.

“Great. You scared the pigeons.”

“Speaking of, would you eat a pigeon?” There was a teasing quality in Harry’s question, one that Louis was going to squash in an instant if he’d learned anything from living with Harry for a week.

“Yes. It's delicious with a side of mashed potatoes."  

Harry’s jaw fell slack, presumably from shock, then he squinted, to gauge if Louis was being serious or not. But Louis’ poker face betrayed nothing.

“Would you eat a turkey?”

Louis acquiesced. “Not on my own, but yes, who wouldn’t?”

“How about a squirrel?” Harry inquired next.

“Tried that. _Loved_ that.”

Harry looked completely scandalized, and Louis had to fight back a smile. He hadn’t really tried squirrel before, but the chance to ruffle Harry was too tempting to pass up, as always. This was the most entertainment Louis had gotten in weeks.

“Okay but would you eat a deer? Surely you wouldn’t.”

 _He would_. “I would.”   

Harry actually looked—   _pained_ now. “I can’t believe you’d eat Bambi, Louis.” Offended on the hypothetical animal's behalf, Harry started flailing his limbs like it would better make his point, and that made another bird take off in a haste. Louis sighed.

“Harry. Think. I did cook Thumper the other day, why _wouldn’t_ I eat Bambi? You fed me leaves that Jasper _pees on_ , you of all people don’t get to judge.”

“I washed them like three times!” Harry said, aggravated, like he was beyond sick of Louis mentioning it, even though it technically just happened. Louis was being perfectly reasonable here. A man couldn’t live on leaves. At this rate, Harry would probably feed him nuts and seeds for dinner next time.

As they finally reached the clearing Louis had been working in all day, he took a seat on a tree stump, decidedly _not_ tapping the spot beside him _._

****

Harry sat there anyway.

To an outsider, the clearing must have looked like the portrait of devastation. A vast, ominously quiet area of stumps, twisted old roots, and freshly cleaved piles of kindling wood, ready to be transported the next day. It would be another week for him to finish with this particular parcel of woods to move on to the next. Soon he’d have to plan for the fall and what the weather would bring.

Louis tilted his head upward, feeling the longer strands of hair at his nape tickling the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the several storey tall pine trees reaching for the moon.

After a few blissful seconds of silence where Harry had been fidgety at best, he sent Louis a sideway glance.

“Working here, doesn’t it make you feel small?” Harry asked. Louis was fully prepared to snark right back, not wanting to be the punchline of yet another “short joke” (he had Niall for that, thank you very much) but he stopped when he realized Harry had followed his gaze and was staring at the empty skies alongside him. “It seems a little lonely,” Harry murmured tentatively.

“Sometimes.” Louis cleared his throat, mechanically reaching for a dried leaf on the forest floor and picking at it. “I don’t really think about it.”

He had his home, his woods, his work, his friends, his family, even though he didn’t visit them nearly enough. He was lucky, in more ways than one, he knew it. The gaping hole in the middle of his chest in the shape of Teddy made itself known mostly in the wee bits of dawn. Between asleep and awake, when he was still foggy from slumber and reached to the other side of his bed only to be met with the cold rumpled sheets. That’s when he felt lonely.

Louis’ chest ached with phantom pain.

He wasn’t about to admit that to _Harry Styles_ of all people. He was barely capable of admitting it to himself. In any case, Harry didn’t notice Louis’ internal turmoil, his mind already jumping back to their previous topic of conversation. _Short attention span. Figures._

"Hey Louis. Why aren't there any animals around? Did you eat them all?" Harry laughed at his own joke, the dork.

“Maybe because you talk like—   _all_ _the_ _time_?” Louis said through gritted teeth, raising his calloused palms up in the air. “If you'd just shut up for a full minute maybe _they would show up_." As he got up and dusted off his behind that was a little damp from the wood’s humidity, he felt suddenly tired, like the day had finally caught up to him. Harry took the hint and followed suit immediately, continuing the conversation without taking a breath.

“Listen, I can be quiet, okay? You would be impressed by how quiet I can be, I mean it’s unbelievable how you don’t think I can be silent when I once spent like four whole days in a Buddhist temple with monks and they were like— ” Harry cut himself off, a small crease forming between his brows.

“What?” Louis asked, a thought occurring to him suddenly, “Did they— they kicked you out, didn’t they?”

The deep flush of Harry’s cheeks was answer enough. Louis laughed uproariously, the sound filling the quiet of the woods while Harry still tried to talk over it, albeit between his own chuckles.

“Listen, I’m totally capable of— ”

Louis’ answer was definitely a lot more playful than he wanted it to be. “Harry, you just talked for five minutes about how quiet you can be, that should tell you something, you’re definitely not a quiet boy.”

They headed back to the house, arguing all the way there (absolutely _not_ bantering, no). If they didn’t spot one single animal, Harry was still determined to say it wasn’t his fault.

                     

  

 

Harry’s next few days were a blur of school, getting settled properly, and getting to know his way around town. He bought himself a used car, because Niall laughed at him when he suggested continuing to get to work on his recently purchased used bike during the winter ( _You’ll freeze to death, Harry, not to mention the fuckin’ snow_ ) and he straight out toppled over himself wheezing when Harry asked about public transportation.

The thing was, Harry didn’t believe in cars.

He’d managed to live most of his life without one, counting on buses, trains, and carpool more often than not, a thing his home town provided as well as most of the cities he’d lived in over the years. So he begrudgingly bought the smallest used one he could find (a Smart) and instantly regretted it when he realised he had to be a contortionist to squeeze his long limbs inside a vehicle the size of a tin can for the next few months. Parked beside Louis’ truck, Harry’s car would barely scrape the top of Louis’ tires, that was for sure. It would look completely ridiculous, and he was already preparing himself mentally for the roasting Louis would surely make him suffer through.

Not right now though, since the truck wasn’t there, nor was Louis for that matter. It was Sunday and Louis was nowhere to be found. And Louis didn’t work on Sundays, he had told Harry as much, so Harry wondered where he was, especially since lunch was getting cold. Now that he thought about it, Louis was gone most of last Sunday too.

When the clock hit 2 pm, Harry gave up on waiting and ate by himself, the only thing disturbing the silence was the birds, pleasantly singing outside. It was soothing, calming.

Okay, no that was lie, it was driving him _insane_ . There _was_ such a thing as being too quiet.

He resisted the urge to rearrange the furniture out of sheer boredom (he had an inkling Louis wouldn’t be too keen on that) and dejectedly put Louis’ plate in the fridge.

Niall’s text inviting him for a pint came as a relief.

They met at the local pub, an antiquated hole in the wall with a homey vibe called “Susette” where The Dixie Chicks played too loudly in the background. The place was packed and overheated. Behind the bar, a middle aged woman seemed to rule the place, a towel carelessly thrown over her shoulder, another one in her hands drying a glass, while chewing gum with her mouth open.

They chose a booth to sit in and enjoyed a round of beers and poutine. Niall introduced him to every person living in a five mile radius during the first hour they were there and Harry replied to every question he was asked as politely as he could (he really was the new attraction in town, Louis was right about that). Niall was his easy-going self, albeit looking a little distracted.  

An hour later, Louis showed up.

“Move over, Styles.” Louis didn’t bother waiting for a reply before pushing his butt against Harry’s, forcing him to budge a little further into the booth. He was already digging into the fries and hailing for a beer.

“You could have left a note.” Harry reproached without preamble and Louis stopped dead mid chew. “You were gone all day.”

Louis frowned. “Who are you, my mom?”

“No,” Harry spit out, ”but we live tog—  we— ” Harry stopped, not knowing how to continue this particular sentence and decidedly ignoring Niall’s chuckle ( _now_ he decided to pay attention, the asshole). “I mean I was worried, so it would have been nice if you’d left a note, that’s all. Plus, I cooked.”

“I never asked you to cook,” Louis said petulantly, taking a sip of the beer the waitress just put down in front of him.

“I know that,” Avoiding eye contact, Harry picked at the label of his beer; he was just grumpy because he had spent most of the day alone. “What are you doing here anyhow?”

Because Harry valued his balls, he didn’t say that it didn’t fit the whole “recluse” aesthetic Louis had going on.

“Louis is my wingman.” Niall said out of nowhere, looking grim. “Let me tell you, he’s shit at it too. I mean Lou—  you could have _at least_ dressed up a little—  like? Did you even look in the mirror before going out, or— ?”

“Hey. I never asked for any of this, I thought you wanted a drink, I had no idea about the rest. Besides, I’ve tried to help with Casey several times. It’s not my fault you suck at this.”

“Oh! My assistant’s here?”  

It finally clicked why Niall had been distracted. As he turned around to follow Niall’s gaze, Harry spotted Casey, his straight-laced, practically puritanical assistant, only—  the woman standing near the bar, in the middle of the crowd, couldn’t be Casey Russell. Freed from the tight bun, her hair hung around her soft face in wild, shiny curls. Her prim work attire had been replaced by ripped jeans and plaid (of course). She was smiling and talking to another woman, about her age, and was even moving slightly in time to the music playing from the jukebox in the corner.

Harry tried to shake the alternate universe without success.

“Don’t look!” Niall panicked. “Be cool man, I’m playing hard to get.”

Except—  she didn’t seem to pay any more attention to Niall outside of school than she did when they were working. She had turned and was now talking to a man, and enjoying herself. Harry recognised the telltale signs of someone who wanted to be flirted with, reaching for the man’s forearm, laughing with her head tipped back. Laughing suited her, Harry thought, it made her eyes sparkle and she was pretty in general, but when she laughed, she was flat-out beautiful.

“And how exactly is _Louis, of all people,_ going to help you seduce my assistant?” Harry wondered out loud, disguising his disbelief with a chuckle.

“I couldn’t come alone and Zayn and Liam were busy tonight.” Niall said somberly, drawing circles in the condensation on the table.

Louis’ reaction was quick. “I was _third choice_?” Aggravation colored his voice.

The table suddenly shook and the glasses tipped over slightly, indicating Niall had kicked Louis under the table. “You didn’t even shave Lou, I think you have zero say here.”

“I’m an excellent wingman,” Harry interjected, even though the boys were busy bickering and not really listening to him.

“Oh I thought about it,” Niall replied, after nudging Louis behind the head. “But you’re also her boss, and mine. Lou here really was my last resort.”

“That is just splendid,” Louis said, licking his thumb smeared with gravy. Despite the words, he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Since I’m not needed, I’m going home, I’m beat.”

Louis stood up to leave.

“Wait!” Niall and Harry exclaimed at the same time. Louis slowly sat back down, barely containing his annoyance.

“We could at least play interference with the guy she’s with so Niall can approach her?” Harry proposed, but Louis shook his head immediately.

Without a word, he rose to his feet, but instead of heading to the door he took a turn, winding his way through the bodies, and planted himself between Casey and whoever she was talking to.

Harry watched with bated breath.

Casey, who rarely cracked a smile in Harry’s presence, kissed Louis on both cheeks, delighted to see him. Harry wondered if that’s what happened when two grumps met: they made each other happier, like two negative integers always resulting in a positive.

“Oh yeah. They’re pals,” Niall mumbled, bitterly. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Harry was just about to ask for details when he noticed Louis making his way back to the table, Casey in tow. There was a suspended moment where both Louis and Casey were planted in front of the table and Niall and Harry just looked at them a little dumbly.

“Come on guys, move over so our guest can have a seat.” Louis said, eyebrows knitted together before everyone geared back into action. “Jesus, it’s almost as if you’ve never seen a woman in your entire lives.”

Mumbled apologies turned into beer orders and polite pleasantries exchanged between Harry and Casey during which Niall seemed like he needed to pass gas. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think Niall was that close to vomiting right then and there, fidgeting and staring intently at a spot in the middle of the table. After she had asked Niall for the second time if he was okay and him still not answering, Casey shifted her attention back to Louis who was sat opposite her. They were talking about people Harry had never heard about and Harry tried to include Niall as much as he could into the conversation without being too obvious. Niall however, was as responsive as one of Louis’ logs.

She rejoined her friends after her drink, although not without sending a confused look at Niall first. Louis stared at Harry with his eyebrows raised like he’d just proved a point.

“See? It’s hopeless. Whenever she’s around, Niall loses all social skills.” Louis snapped his fingers in front of Niall’s frozen, clammy face for emphasis, and he didn’t even move, Harry didn’t have the heart to laugh.

It took a few seconds but Niall finally snapped out of it. “I wasn’t mentally prepared for her to sit so close to me. You _know_ I need a moment to brace myself for—  ” He flailed his arms, “her gorgeous face, her soft hair, and her, her—  _smell_.”

Louis nodded knowingly, it seemed like they had this conversation several times before.

“On that disastrous note, fellas, I’m going home.” Louis pushed himself up to his feet, throwing a few loonies over the wooden table.

“Hey, give Harry a ride back, will you?” Niall asked, a little green still, “I picked him up so he’s on foot.”

“Alright then, Styles, get in the truck.” Louis said easily, jerking his head to the side.

No one bothered to ask Harry if he was ready to go.

He got in the truck anyway.

  
  

 

“How can someone be so bad at flirting?” Harry immediately asked, climbing up into the truck and fastening his seatbelt in one swift move.

“I don’t know, but this is why I don’t want to help him anymore. He’s a lost cause.” The road was empty at this hour, but Louis wasn’t one to speed anyway.

“That’s a shame, they would be great together,” Harry mused, thumbing at his bottom lip. “How long has it been going on?”

“Since high school, I guess, on and off. I thought he was over her at some point a few years back. He had a girlfriend, but after they broke up he was back to—  this.” Louis made a wild, baffled gesture with his hands from behind the wheel. “I mean you saw him, it’s bad. He’s not smooth _at all_.”

“Oh? Are you an expert? Are you smooth?” Harry was teasing him, that much was evident, with his head cocked to the side and there was a twinkle in his eye that was visible even in the darkness. Oh and he was batting his eyelashes. Not cute, but Louis found himself inclined to indulge him, for once.

“Honestly no. I’ve never flirted with a woman for starters, and I haven’t flirted in like 20 years, so no, not an expert.”

“Plus you don’t like to talk about nothing.” Louis wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. What was more pressing was the fact that Harry seemed to be calling him out on his bullshit. Well, what Niall not so lovingly called “his bullshit”. To Louis, it was just being a decent person. Who knew how to shut up once in awhile.

_How the hell did Harry pick up on that?_

“Yeah, but I can still hold better conversation than that.”

Harry snorted but didn’t comment.

Silence settled in the cabin of the truck, an unusual occurrence for Harry given _any_ circumstance. Louis didn’t miss his incessant chatter, of course he didn’t. He could hear the engine softly purring under the hood of the truck and he found himself not regretting purchasing it four years ago. It was still as good as new, and did the job.

Eventually, the wide road turned into a gravelled, narrow path once they reached the outskirts of Louis’ property, and soon enough, the house came into view. He parked the car and as he was about to ask Harry about the miniscule ersatz car parked in front of the house, he realised Harry was asleep, softly snoring against the window, his breathing forming small circles of fog as it puffed in and out of his mouth.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." His voice came out soft —  so soft Louis surprised himself. It was warm and blurred at the edges —  matched the dim, yellow light that spilled gently from the overhang of the barn into the cab of the truck — but it made Harry stir immediately, blinking fast, like he was willing his sight to adjust sooner. It took a moment, but eventually Louis saw Harry's gaze sharpen, focus on a single spot in between them. Louis snatched his hand away from where it was resting on Harry's arm, but it was too late—  one corner of Harry's lips was already turned up in a smile.

They parted ways in the hall, but not before Harry softly said something that would keep Louis awake longer than he wanted to admit.

“Hey, Lou? I think you could seduce the pants off anyone, if you tried.”

The soft click of Harry’s door sounded like thunder to Louis’ ears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch the “Empty Skies” ref? You get a cookie.
> 
> If it’s midnight when you’ve reached this point in the fic, put the fic down and go to bed. The fic will still be here tomorrow. Trust me on this sista’.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do not forget that even the trees shake the snow off their branches from time to time;

do not forget there is no shame in refusing to carry a weight any further.”

— Tyler Knott Gregson

 

The last thing Louis expected to find when he got back home on a Wednesday afternoon was his dining room filled with— people. At least a dozen of them seated around his table chatting animatedly amongst themselves, with music playing in the background. Niall, Liam, and Zayn were there, as well as vaguely familiar faces from school and there was a flip chart that didn’t belong there with a diagram and a plethora of numbers scribbled on it that was now placed where Louis’ TV used to be.

“Who wants some more lemonade?” Heading out from the kitchen, Harry’s cheerful inquiry resonated over the chatter of the guests, he smiled once he spotted the first person raising their hand, immediately followed by three others.

Past the first moment of surprise and unwanted nostalgia of Sundays from the past filled with family and friends, Louis couldn’t really be expected to just stay—  silent.

“What is happening here?” He asked and every head snapped up at once to look at him. Harry had the common sense to pink up at least. It was Niall, however, who decided to offer an explanation.

“Winter formal committee. You’re welcome to join, we need all hands on deck.”

(Casey snorted at that

“We can move somewhere else if you— ” Harry started, voice wobbly and unsure.

“Nonsense!” Niall cut in, squashing Harry’s proposition altogether, “Louis would be thrilled to offer hospitality on our _joint property_ , right Lou?”

“Right,” Louis trailed off, already grabbing Niall by the arm and leading him outside to give him a piece of his mind on top of his hospitality. “What the hell is wrong with you? Did Harry put you up to this?”

Niall shrugged. “We need to raise money.”

“Any particular reason the headquarters needs to be in my house and not on school grounds?” Louis shrieked.

“That was  _my_ idea. It was essential for my secret mission.” Louis followed Niall’s gaze trailing inside. It landed on Casey.

“Is this another one of your ploys to get into Casey’s pants?”

“No.” Niall didn’t even flinch at the accusation— even though Louis had grounds to insinuate that. “Teddy, Zayn, Li, and you? The _Almighty Four?_ You know what you did way back when with your shenanigans? You _robbed_ me from my senior prom _and_ my senior prank, you know that, right? So now, _brother_ , you are going to help me plan the best winter formal _and_ the best prank Maple Ridge has ever seen.”

At that, Niall actually looked— serious.

 _What?_ “What?”

“Listen. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I want the biggest most extravagant winter formal. And I want the greatest prank ever pulled. I want it all and you’re going to give it to me, got it? You shits owe me this.”

There was a certain edge to Niall’s voice — something unsaid, too. Like he was somehow blaming Louis for what had happened — and it had nothing to do with the prank itself. It wasn’t Louis’ fault if Niall had tried to take credit for the prank 16 years ago in an attempt to appear cool and seduce a very unimpressed Casey and that it had horribly backfired. It wasn’t Louis’ fault either if she’d stopped talking to Niall altogether after that.

“But— ” _Technically_ , Louis couldn’t be held responsible for the school events’ cancellation either. It was all Principal Boyle’s doing, and even if he may have pushed it a tad too far, to each their own. Boyle’s reaction was ,totally disproportionate — and wrong — in Louis’ humble opinion.

Still, Niall had that look on his face that told Louis he was screwed. Louis knew from experience that his brother-in-law was like a dog with a bone when he got like this, and if Louis knew anything it was that:

  1. Niall was a manipulative little shit who always got what he wanted (there was one exception to that rule and she was sitting at the dining table).
  2. Historically speaking, Louis always found it impossible to refuse Niall anything (exhibit A. Harry fucking Styles was now living with him and there was a teacher’s conference in his home for God’s sake.) Shame. _Shame_.
  3. Louis had always been the _best_ at pulling pranks, it was his thing. If he didn’t help Niall, he was going to do something like print out fake penis inspection flyers and spread them around the school, or something equally lame, and that couldn’t happen on Louis’ watch.
  4. Despite every one of his instincts telling Louis to say no, he was already thinking about possible pranks and the logistics those would entail (Damn you Sheerans and your powers of persuasion).



“No buts, Louis. You know how much I missed that milestone growing up!” Niall cried out, visibly upset.

Louis vividly remembered the numerous times when a 17-year old Niall complained about it, even if Louis clearly misjudged the gravity of it all in hindsight. It’s just—  Louis was already 19 and out of high school, building a house and a future for himself and Ed who was away in college. Louis couldn’t really be blamed for not taking a teenager seriously back then and the loss he was supposedly responsible for.

Oh _no_. Niall was doing the hurt puppy eyes now. Fuck. _Fuck!_

Feeling all the fight leave him at once, Louis nodded. “Okay, but you better follow my lead or—  ”

Niall jumped into Louis’ arms then, like they were both 18 and 16 again and Louis just agreed to let Niall tag along when he glued principal Boyle’s office chair to the ground. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He exclaimed, squishing Louis’ cheeks between his warm hands and kissing him wetly on the nose.

Louis blinked up, lowering Niall’s hand. “Don’t thank me yet, you’re helping. You know Harry could fire you because of this?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Niall beamed, a twinkle in his eye. Niall was stupid enough to think so. As if there were countless music teachers’ positions lying around in their secluded corner of the world. “Plus, don’t think I don’t know you’ll take all the blame, if it ever comes to that.” Niall had the audacity to wink. He was probably right, but it was certainly no reason to rub it in Louis’ face. “Plus, Harry would be a lot easier to convince you’re the one responsible than Casey.”

No matter how much Niall (and years later, Louis himself) insisted Niall didn’t have anything to do with the original prank, Casey still didn’t believe either one of them, much to Niall’s dismay.

“I’m surprised you’re even willing to take the risk,” Louis mused. It was more a comment about Niall’s love life than his job though.

“Ride or die,” Niall laughed, “it’s not as if she doesn’t hate me already, you know? At least I get my fun.”

“Come on now,” Louis grunted, attempting to hide the fondness from his voice and shoving Niall towards the house, “we have a lot to do.”

Harry was in the middle of a PowerPoint presentation (yes, a freaking PowerPoint presentation) when Louis and Niall tiptoed their way around the dining table which now served as a conference table. He didn’t seem to notice them until Louis’ chair screeched loudly against the wood floor. Despite all eyes being on him at once, Louis resisted the urge to wince (it was his house and he could be as loud as he wanted in it, thanks.). His embarrassment was short lived, soon replaced by something else, something much more enjoyable — Harry had started stumbling around his words, his eyes landing on Louis’ seated form.

“Errr, Louis, hi, hello, um, nice of you to join us.”

“Please, I’d love to help,” Louis answered, smirking just a tad at Harry’s obvious flush. “But don’t let me interrupt, what were you saying about choosing a new mascot to build school spirit? I have to say I’m all for it, always hated Freddie the Falcon to begin with.” Harry gave a small smile, obviously pondering if Louis was making fun of him or not (hint: he was). “I think something a little more threatening is in order, how about Boo Boo the Bear?”

Hands on his hips, Harry was actually about to retort something but was interrupted by Casey then, who was having none of it.

“Stop enabling his delusion Lou, Please. We have zero budget to do that to begin with, plus you weren’t there but he actually suggested to record a school anthem a few minutes ago _in a recording studio._ So Boo Boo the Bear isn’t that far-fetched.” Casey caught herself then, making eye contact with Harry, “I mean, respectfully, sir.”

“Hey, how come grumpy gets a ‘Lou’ and you still call me Sheeran?” Niall pouted from beside Louis — even though Niall _knew_ why. “We’ve known each other for like, 16 years.” It wasn’t worth it to point out that Niall probably knew the exact number of days he’d known her because as always, Casey didn’t acknowledge Niall at all, choosing to join Harry at the front of the table instead, snatching the pointer from his hand and scrolling back a few slides with twitchy, impatient fingers.

“Let’s be pragmatic, shall we? We’re gathered here to organize and finance the winter formal that you, principal Styles, announced to the whole school. This will be hard enough to accomplish as it is, don’t you think?” If the click of her tongue didn’t show her impatience, the tapping of her foot certainly did the trick.

There were a few beats of silence during which the only movement came from the glittery “Winter Formal” ‘comic sans’ title blinking on the screen.

“Mmmmmh,” Harry hummed, his bottom lip caught between his thumb and his forefinger, “I suppose you’re not wrong, but I’ll have to have everyone’s full cooperation for the winter formal and the fundraising if I’m going to forget about the rest.”

Around the table there was an instant display of relief, earnest nodding, and mumbled _yes absolutely-ies_ , and _of course sir-s_.

Harry nodded, clasping his hands together and letting out a satisfied sigh. When he turned around to get back to his presentation, Louis could swear he caught Harry smirking.

Two hours, 28 beers, 7 bags of chips and 3 jars of salsa later, they had some sort of a plan to fund and organize this thing. In fact, there was a vibe in the room that could only be described as euphoric and Louis was not sure he could blame it on the beer. Liam and Zayn were talking animatedly about a bake sale they wanted to organize, while three of the older members of the faculty were discussing the merits of pep rallies. Even Casey’s frown had morphed into something vaguely resembling a smile as she reread her notes about the budget — and was Harry looking smug? Clearly he hadn’t read Louis’ post-it about the axe throwing contest yet.

As the afternoon turned to sundown, Louis watched Niall and Harry walk everyone to the door, with hugs and waves and congratulations about a job well done.

There was a heavy weight settling in Louis’ bones, something that didn’t exactly resemble dread, but it wasn’t reassuring either. He didn’t dwell on that, but he wondered when his house stopped being exclusively his.

  
  

 

It took a little convincing, but Louis agreed to take Harry with him to do the grocery shopping when Saturday afternoon rolled around. Harry insisted he was the one doing all the cooking from now on and Louis begrudgingly gave the ok.

The local grocery store was more like a glorified mini-market, but Harry supposed it sufficed to feed a town that small. It was well stocked and the products looked fresh and appetizing and in the end that was all that mattered. He found it comforting not to have to walk two kilometers to find the cashier anyway. He was about to throw two heads of broccoli into his basket when his attention was drawn away from the vegetable section to a woman accosting Louis.

“Louis, dear! You— Shouldn’t you be in school? I think—  Yes, Mondays are school days, you should be in school!”

By the looks of it, the woman, who was in her mid sixties, was disoriented and lost, wearing a nightgown with little yellow flowers on the sleeves, and a single worn out slipper. She was looking around like she was wondering where she was, the pyramid of canned beans she was leaning on threatening to collapse under her weight any second before Louis caught her elbow to steady her wavering form.

“Winnie!” Louis said, voice laced with worry, “Where’s Thomas? Are you on your own? You shouldn’t be on your own, love.” There was an anxious look about him, but it was also strikingly obvious Louis was careful not to startle her.

“I needed green peas for my recipe. I know how much you like them.”

“I do,” Louis smiled at her, but it didn’t ease the storm in his eyes.

Keeping her steady on her feet was trying for Louis, so Harry slid on her other side unprompted, to help carry her weight. Louis silently nodded his thanks.

“Louis,” she scolded next, “I really should be telling you off to principal Boyle. Skipping class on a Tuesday? That’s so unlike you. You’re lucky you’re my favorite, you know?”

Before Harry could ask any questions — and he had many _many_ questions — Louis steered his attention away from Winnie.

“Harry, I have to take Winnie back, I’m afraid you’re going to have to finish shopping on your own, but I can pick you back up after she’s home safe, yeah?”

Winnie was quick to insert herself back to the conversation. “Louis, where is Teddy? It’s not like you to wander around without him.” She smiled fondly and tapped her fingertips against Louis’ arm, like a mother would, gentle and loving.

“He’s— he’s at home, he’s helping his dad with deliveries, you know how it is, come October. The logs don’t wait.” Louis’ answer was hesitant, he didn’t meet Harry’s eye, but it was also clear as day that the tone of his voice had taken an unusual quality, Harry could barely recognise the rasp.

Winnie nodded knowingly and turned to Harry. “Harry, is it? You’re one of Louis’ friends, right? I’m sorry my memory isn’t what it used to be. Louis, is this one of the new kids in school? Does he get along with Teddy and the others? Did you know Niall, his little brother, is in my class? Are you in my class?”

She was all over the place and Harry had no idea how he was supposed to answer.

“Errr, I— ” Harry hesitated, turning to Louis for guidance, who just jerked his head no, a little panicky and wide eyed. Harry suspected Louis didn’t want him to set any record straight right about now. “Yes, I’m new at the school, yes.” It wasn’t a lie at least.

“Don’t let this one fool you.” She said, like a secret. “He’s good-hearted, but he still manages to get into trouble. Very entertaining, if you ask me, but some higher-ups at school would disagree.” She looked at Louis knowingly, mischief written around her wrinkled soft eyes,  but he shrugged it off, fighting off his own smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Winnie.”

She laughed and turned to Harry once more. “You should come and have lunch with us next Sunday then. It’s tradition. Any friend of Louis’ is always welcome at my table. Louis, make sure he comes, I’ll set up a plate for him.”

Sunday… Sunday… it suddenly hit Harry that this is probably where Louis disappeared to every Sunday. Louis, who was busy and overworked, made time for an old teacher of his.

Harry found it endearing, and it made him wonder what else Louis got up to that no one knew about.

“Oh I don’t know, Winnie—  ” Louis began, at the same time Harry said, “I’d love to.” Louis squinted up at him, but didn’t say anything further. Harry began to squirm a little, transformed into a stuttering mess just like always when Louis stared him down.

Fortunately, it was short lived. A man, who couldn’t be older than seventy, made a beeline for them, putting an end to the staring contest.

“Winnifred, where on earth were you, sweetheart?” The way he talked was gentle and kind, reminding Harry of the way Louis had addressed her earlier, like she was two seconds away from shattering. “I was worried sick.” He looked it too, skin pale and hair standing askew. Winnie immediately reached out for him, breaking free of Harry and Louis’ hold.

“Thomas,” She looked around, completely at loss, “I don’t— I lost my slipper.” Her eyes were glazed like she was on the verge of tears, hanging off the arm of her husband like a lifeline, “Where am I, Thomas? What’s happening, I’m scared.” He was holding her close, petting her hair gently, hands shaking with nerves. On top of feeling completely out of his depth, Harry felt like he was intruding, so he averted his gaze and in doing so, searched for Louis’ eyes _again_ (Jesus, it seemed to be a pattern), but Louis didn’t look better off himself. The tension showed in the line of his shoulders, the set of his mouth, the crease forming in between his eyebrows.

“I was going to drive her home,” Louis murmured for Thomas’ sake and Thomas nodded, like he knew already. Louis had never looked this small.

“I got her now,” Thomas uttered, placing a tender kiss on the crown of her hair. “Thank you, both of you. See you Sunday, kiddo. In fact, bring your friend,” he added, echoing his wife’s invitation from earlier, even though Thomas and Harry weren’t even introduced properly.

Once the couple was gone, Harry and Louis finished their grocery shopping in tense silence. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak so he stayed quiet, and it was not like Louis to fill any silence _ever_ anyway.

Louis’ hands were still trembling when he sat behind the wheel but Harry knew better by now than to offer to drive for him. Louis wouldn’t want Harry to notice any sign of weakness so he didn’t comment on Louis’ shaky breath or his glistening eyes either.

It was fucked up how many of Louis’ non-verbal tells he had already picked up on. It wasn’t his fault, Harry reasoned. When someone didn’t talk back as much as Louis, it was only natural to just like— _observe_ them, right?

Louis finally broke the silence after a series of deep breaths, both hands gripping the steering wheel. “Winnie has Alzheimer’s, in case you were curious.” He wasn’t looking at Harry, but Harry didn’t blame him.

“I figured as much.”

It started raining, and for a few minutes, the droplets splattering against the windows filled the gaps and the quiet. It was evident Louis had a special connection to this woman. Harry wondered if she might even be family, before quickly dismissing the idea once he remembered the photographs of his mom and sisters scattered around the house.

“She was my music teacher. I was her favorite as you might have guessed. We stayed—  I stayed close to her. We have lunch every week.” It looked as if the words were punched out of Louis. “She’s getting worse. She’s been talking to me like I’m 17 again on and off for a few weeks.” The rain was pissing down now, clouding the road’s visibility, so Louis kept looking straight ahead as he talked.

“I’m sorry.” Harry breathed, shaking his head slightly. “It must be excruciating for you to have Ed brought up like he’s still around.”

Louis’ head snapped Harry’s way so quickly Harry instantly knew he had overstepped. Louis’ gaze showed little to no trace of the vulnerability he displayed a few moments prior, stare turning hard, unblinking, unfaltering.

Just as Harry was mentally preparing to be scolded, wide eyed and breath caught in his throat, Louis swallowed, and his stare wavered, the thin line that was his mouth relaxing. And when he finally spoke out, it wasn’t louder than a shaky whisper.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It didn’t sound like the accusation Harry was bracing himself for. In fact, it sounded like Louis was actually envious that Harry didn’t _know_ . It sounded sad and defeated and lonely. In that moment, Harry understood exactly why Louis’ friends were fiercely protective of him, even though at first glance, Louis was the last person that needed, _or wanted_ , wardship.

Still, the point stood. Louis was right, Harry didn’t know, how could he? He was lucky enough to still have both his parents and although his grandfather had died, Harry had only been 4-years old and didn’t even remember him. He was about to apologize but Louis shook his head to silence him, and the ride shuddered into motion as Louis pulled his eyes away.

  
  

 

When Louis came in from checking on Jasper one last time for the night, an armful of logs under his arms, he walked in to find his living room completely transformed, and his entire house smelling like bacon and melted cheese. This shit should really not surprise him by now, but his blood pressure rose nonetheless.

[ ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/d0d2272aeca353b9c22e175baa3cf149/tumblr_inline_pf2aqm1YHK1sv7gxp_1280.jpg)

“Harry! What in God’s name are you up to now?” He yelled into the open space, not really knowing where Harry actually was.

As he had suspected though, Harry’s head poked out of the kitchen’s door frame wearing a wide smile on his face, and a pink apron with the words “[Save a tree, Ride a lumberjack](https://i3.cpcache.com/product/179789162/save_a_tree_ride_a_lumberjac_dark_tshirt.jpg?color=Charcoal&height=460&width=460&qv=90)” in big black bold letters.

Louis choked on his own spit.

“It’s game night!” He replied cheerfully, “I thought that I could host tonight. Let you just enjoy your friends’ company, heh?” Harry’s voice got lower, and slightly less cheerful as Louis continued to stare, and not respond. “I—  I’ve got a theme and everything.”

 _Harry Styles, Ladies and Gentlemen._ Louis thought to himself. _What an odd bird._

“I’ll—  just get out of your way then.” Louis turned around, and walked right out the door again. He didn’t have the patience for that kind of optimism this late in the day — or ever, for that matter. He started looking around the yard for things to occupy his time, taking comfort in the mindless chore of picking up the stray pieces of bark that blew away from his wood splitting pile. He definitely didn’t think about the strange feeling he was getting knowing that he had a warm meal waiting for him inside while he did chores outside.

The scene was so domestic that he wanted to run down the driveway in protest.

“What did that piece of bark ever do to you?” Zayn suddenly spoke behind him. Louis jumped as he dropped the few pieces of wood in his hands.

“What the fuck, Z?” He glared to hide the surprise.

“You looked like you were about to commit murder.” Zayn nodded towards Louis’ hands, to the tiny shreds he had been making out of the scraps.

“Why are you still working?” Niall sidled up behind Zayn. “You are usually half catatonic in front of the TV this time of day.”

“Harry has upended the house. Again.” Louis frowned. His friends just looked at him, long-since bored of his Harry rants. “I am just trying to get some peace in my own home. Apparently even the front lawn isn’t safe.”

“Come inside, and wash your hands. We’re playing poker tonight, and I’m hungry,” Niall ordered him, not even looking to make sure Louis obeyed, before he started walking through the door letting out a waft of dry heat from the crackling fire, and the smell of delicious food that Louis couldn’t quite identify.

“I guess I could eat,” he grumbled, following Zayn begrudgingly. Zayn just snickered as they joined Niall and Harry inside.

Harry was there, greeting them at the door (still wearing that ridiculous apron), he had traded his shirt for a denim one, that looked soft and well worn.

“Go ahead, have a seat, relax, I’ll be there shortly with your drinks!” Harry said, biting on the side of his bottom lip. He looked nervous but Louis didn’t dwell on that, walking past him and sitting down with the grace of a sack of wet cement in his favorite armchair by the fireplace.

He noticed when Zayn and Harry high fived in greeting and also when he and Niall bumped fists. He choked when Liam, who was just behind them apparently, bumped his butt against Harry’s singsonging his hello. When did this all happen? Louis was lucky if he got a shoulder squeeze from his own friends.

Niall was already setting up the cards on the coffee table when Harry joined them with a tray full of drinks that looked like cocktails.

Louis sniffed at it suspiciously, while the others immediately had a taste.

“Mmh.” Niall hummed, “I love a good Apple Jack.”

Harry looked pleased. “The theme tonight is Lumberjacks. I thought it was a little early in the day for Jack Me Offs, so I made Apple Jacks instead.” He giggled at his own cheekiness, soon joined by the others but the Apple Jack chose that moment to go though Louis’ nose and he started coughing, all eyes turning on him at once. Louis batted them off but accepted the napkin Harry offered, even though he was fighting a smile.

“I hope you like cocktails, I have a whole list of them prepared for you guys.” Harry announced, “I may also have gone a little overboard with the theme for the food.” If Harry wanted to sound sheepish, then he shouldn’t have smiled. But he did.

And a dimple appeared.

Not the familiar symmetrical indents Harry usually wore when he smiled broadly. It was a new one, at least one Louis didn’t notice before, one that came paired with a crooked smile and a smug face. The dimple teased his cheek just as its owner’s smile teased Louis, taunting and wide and just _there_. Infuriatingly so.

Louis chose to ignore the crater altogether, his eyes landing on the [ bowl of cheese puffs ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/aa/2d/1d/aa2d1dee57b951fb8fbc0d67bf5e8406.jpg) with a little wooden tag marked “campfire flames” instead.

If the pun was any indication, it was going to be a long, **long** , _long_ night.

Louis’ mood improved quite significantly as the drinks kept coming, starting with Winter in Logging Camps (Vodka), and immediately followed by Nutty Jims (Jameson and Baileys) and Flannel Warmers (Whiskey). Mixing liquors wasn’t the best idea in the world but since everyone was downing them, he wouldn’t pass on a round. Louis Tomlinson would never in a million years let himself be “out-lumberjacked” by _teachers_ of all people.

And now Louis was thinking about himself in the third person. Ok, maybe he was drunker than he thought already. But he was winning at poker, and the food was tasty (yes, Harry was a passable cook. There, Louis admitted it.) He even surprised himself by laughing out loud when presented with a plate of mini hot dogs that were made to look like chopped off fingers. Harry looked pleased and it distracted Louis so much he lost the next round of poker.

It was funnier than the [ wood pretzel logs](http://karaspartyideas.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/Lumberjack-Birthday-Party-via-Karas-Party-Ideas-KarasPartyIdeas.com19.jpg), Louis reasoned.

Each of them got to ‘choose their poison’ as the night advanced and when it was Louis’ turn, he was left with very few choices.

“It’s either a Jack Me Off or a Rusty Lumberjack,” Louis slurred, waving the remnants of his Log Roller (Amaretto). “It is my duty to choose carefully.”

“With a great beard comes great responsibility,” Harry commented, straight faced. Louis was too drunk to know if Harry was mocking him or not.

“Yes, mister principal Harold, you are correct. Indeed.”

“Since no one is jacking you off at the moment, you’re going to choose the Rusty Lumberjack,” Liam smirked. “That’s what you are, after all.”

Louis tried to hit him behind the head, but he stumbled and nose planted in the couch where Harry was seated. The couch cushions muffled the combined sound of his friends’ laughter.

Once he was there, Louis decided the sofa was comfortable enough, the worn out leather cool and soft against his squished cheek rendering him sleepy and mellow. He didn’t even react to Niall’s next jab.  

“You _are_ the oldest 34-year old we know.” The familiar joke was said with a gentle ruffle of his hair so Louis let it slide.

It took a minute for Louis to realize Niall wasn’t the one to tangle his fingers in his hair and by the time he found out it was Harry, the hand was already gone and back between Harry’s thighs. Which— were right _there_ in Louis’ eyesight.

Did they always look so gloriously thick? How did Harry manage to have thighs that seem both muscular _and_ wiry? _How?_

He forced himself to sit up, just to clear his head from the alcohol induced fog but he did it so quickly he got lightheaded.

“Wow.” Louis braced himself on the armrest.

“Easy there,” Harry murmured, a frown seated above his green green _green_ eyes. _Heh_.

“Gimme that drink,” Louis ordered, once he felt the earth back beneath his feet, or bum, as it were.

Instead of handing him the glass, Harry took the whole tray away, earning himself some groans from Zayn. “How about we take a break and get some solid food first?” Harry suggested.

Louis would argue, but It was probably for the best, and even if he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it out loud, it seemed alcohol made his reflexes numb and his senses feel like they were on hyper alert. His eyes were following Harry’s moving thighs to the kitchen on their own accord. Those thighs were attached to a perky bum that appeared round and muscular and what Louis would do to that—  and what the _fuck_ was he thinking?

The thought alone zipped through him like lightning and made his head snap back to his own lap like a rubberband. His cheeks felt suddenly hot from shame and alcohol and something else entirely that Louis hadn’t felt in forever. Louis didn’t want to dwell on it, but it was there. The seed of something that he resented and that scared him to death.

He remained quiet when Harry came back with a plethora of greasy finger food. He accepted the mini grilled cheese on a stick that Harry delicately put in the middle of his palm wrapped in a napkin. Harry nodded contentedly and Louis was torn. Torn because it was nice to be taken care of again. But it also made something ugly and warm twist in the pit of his stomach, making him feel nauseous, dirty and—  angry.

Louis unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth with effort. “Thank you.”

It’s when Harry sauntered away, presenting the other guests with food, that Niall scooted closer to him in the couch.

“Tommo, bro, what are we doing for the prank? What’s the plan?” Niall enquired, way too close to Louis’ ear and way too loudly to be discreet. “Are we covering the hallways in cups of water so no one can walk like you did in ‘98 or are you planning on hiding alarm clocks that ring every two minutes like you did the year after? Talk to me.”

Louis was too tired to roll his eyes, but the intention was there. “Shhh, he’s going to hear you! Do you _want_ to get fired?”

Niall let out an obnoxious snort. “Harry would never fire me. He loves me.” Niall shook his head like it was the most preposterous thing he had ever heard. He wasn’t wrong. Harry never shut up as a general rule, but he was never more chatty than when he talked Louis’ ear off about Niall’s professional prowesses. _Niall is making a musical this year, if that’s not school spirit, I don’t know what is! Niall helped me sort out my scheduling problem, even Casey was impressed! What a lifesaver Niall is! Niall. Niall. Niall._

Louis wasn’t surprised. Niall was a Sheeran after all.

It would annoy the hell out of Louis—   if he wasn’t so proud of his brother in law.

Letting his gaze trail outside the window, Louis’ eyes fell on the tiny yogurt pot on wheels Harry had had the nerve to introduce as his car. Harry had pointed out that it was Louis’ own fault that he was driving that car, he owned it solely because Louis had laughed at Harry’s cheeky suggestion that Louis drive him to and from school every day. Of course Louis had refused, even if he technically could do it (the school wasn’t particularly far), but he wasn’t Harry’s keeper.

Plus Louis already gave Harry shelter, and then Harry proceeded to take over his kitchen,  win over all his friends with his effortless charm (Zayn was presently purring, tasting the mini hot-dog and asking for Harry’s hand in marriage), what was Louis supposed to give him next? All that man did already was take, take, take.

If his mind signaled that he was slightly exaggerating, Louis ignored it. He was on a mission.

Staring intently at the electric blue car, a plan started to form in the back of Louis’ mind. It tasted like mischief, revenge, and a little bit like the upper hand. The upper hand over what’s been happening at the bottom of his belly, a bubbly feeling that could be described as butterfly wings.

Louis clasped a hand on Niall’s knee. “Niall. Don’t you worry. I have a plan and it’s the best prank ever. Past, present, and future.”

He had it covered. Everything was under control, he thought to himself, downing two Jack Me Offs in a row.

  
  

 

Louis woke up slowly, letting his eyes rest a little bit more as he felt a mild headache throbbing at his temples. He sank his nose into his pillow and relished in the scent, a nice contrast to the foul taste residing on his tongue after the massive amount of alcohol he consumed the night before. The pillowcase smelled of fresh scented pine and honey and the distinct scent of— Harry.

Suddenly, Louis jolted awake, sitting up, eyes stinging and heart rate rising and two things hit Louis at once: he was half naked and Harry was there, snoring softly beside him.

“What the actual fuck.” Louis shrieked, hitting Harry’s face with a pillow on reflex. “What are you doing in my room?”

Harry sat up, blinking rapidly and rubbing at his nose like it actually hurt. “Heyyyyy.” He whined, frowning slightly. “You’re in _my_ bed.”

“No, I’m not.” Louis scoffed, then he looked around—  and Teddy’s guitars came into view.

 _Shit._ “Shit.” He voiced out loud, bewildered that he let this happen. How? How would he lose control over himself so much he ended up in the very bed he hadn’t slept in in four years. A bed full of memories.

No wonder he’d slept better than he had in forever.

“Shit.” He repeated, dragging a tired hand over his face. “How did this happen?”

“Do you really want to know?”

 _No._ “Yes.” Maybe.

“Are you sure, because you’re not going to like it.” Harry’s eyebrows touched his hairline and Louis noticed then that Harry was in fact, as half naked as Louis was, only wearing tiny pink briefs that left nothing to the imagination… morning wood and all.

Harry must have noticed where Louis’ gaze landed because he subtly pulled a pillow over his crotch even if the light pink flush tinting his cheeks gave him away.

With a clearing of his throat, Louis looked away immediately. Now was _not_ the time to gape at an impossibly huge cock ( _Never_ would be the best time for that).

“I’m waiting.” Louis said, more bark than bite.

“You fell asleep on the couch before the guys even left,” Harry began, voice rough from sleep and laced with a hint of nervousness. “By the time they did, you were snoring so I chose not to wake you. I removed your shoes and put your favorite blanket over you and then I went to bed.”

“This doesn’t explain how I ended up _here_.” Louis snarled. It was so typical of Harry to drag this out. The man couldn’t hurry anything up if his life depended on it.

Harry scoffed. “You tell me. You’re the one that slipped between my sheets half naked and _spooned_ me.” He punctuated his words with a raise of eyebrow.

Louis felt the flush reach his collarbones faster than Niall could down a beer. So he palmed the floor blindly on his side of the bed in search of his shirt. (The realization that he slept on _his_ side of the bed he’d shared with Teddy was like a stab at his own heart, reopening the barely healed stitches of a still raw wound).

“Where are my clothes?” Louis stammered, actually starting to feel like he was exposing way more than his torso.

“I— I don’t know, you were already like this when you—  ”

“And where are _yours_?” Louis cut in, an accusing finger wiggled impatiently between them.

For a split second Louis could see a flash of irritation on Harry’s face before he schooled his features and got himself under control.

“Actually Louis, if you must know, I sleep naked. I put underwear on once you finally cared to detach yourself from my back.” Then he added petulantly, “ It took a while.”

“It doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” Actually, it sounded exactly like something Louis would do. Falling asleep on the couch after a long hard day, then discard his clothes as he went to join Teddy in bed in the middle of the night was something he’d done more often than he’d care to admit.

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t the clingy or needy type, far from it. Well that wasn’t true, he just hadn’t let himself be like that in a long, long, _long_ time. He blamed the booze. Tequila always turned him a little bit stupid anyway. Still, he felt like he needed to apologize. Even if everything was technically Harry’s fault (on principle alone).

“I’m sorry for, like, molesting you or whatever.” He should really stop making wide gestures with his arms.

The smile Harry gave him was sweet. “It’s okay, Louis. I didn’t mind.” He looked away, clearing his throat, but as he clung to the pillow in his lap, he started to smile. “It was cute.”

Louis tried to sound nonchalant. “Cute?”

“Yeah. It was cute seeing you trying to glue yourself to my back then looking all disgruntled because you couldn’t hook your chin over my shoulder.” A grin took over Harry’s face that quickly turned into a chuckle. He was making fun of Louis, but there was no malice, no wickedness. His eyes were dancing with mirth, shining with something Louis vaguely recognised as fondness and Louis felt like he could laugh along and let the small moment of happiness soak into his bones.

He hit Harry with a pillow instead.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s talk about my favorite math equation: Harry + pink briefs.
> 
> The cocktails are actually from a real list of [Lumberjack themed cocktails](http://www.lumberjackday.net/celebrate/howto/drinks/). The internet is a fabulous place.


	5. Chapter 5

“But tell me, how do I show you the wound that doesn’t bleed from outside?”

— Pranitra Rimal

 

Harry was nervous when Sunday came around, considering he fully expected Louis to simply refuse to let him attend lunch at Winnie and Thomas’. Truthfully, Harry had hesitated, but he was invited for one — and his mother taught him better than that — and two, despite what Louis might think, he might need the moral support. Harry was not about to forget how distraught Louis looked that day in the supermarket. Louis might not want him there but he might need him there all the same.

He was prepared to argue with Louis but to his extreme surprise, Louis just opened the front door at 11:45 sharp and said “get in the truck,” a slight frown perched above his sharp blue eyes.

As per usual, the car ride was quiet. The weather leaned on the cold side now that October was upon them, Harry had started to button up his shirts — to most of the students’ chagrin (Niall’s words) — and a coat was now a permanent fixture of his outfit. He was stubbornly committed to not wearing a scarf yet (What would he do in December if he brought out the big guns in October?). He regretted not wearing a beanie though, as he rolled the car window down and stuck his head out. It was not to drown out the fresh, heady smell of Louis’ body wash mixed with a touch of cologne or anything. (Louis didn’t usually wear cologne and Harry’s nose was a sensitive thing that picked up on those things, okay? Okay.)  

“Were you a dog in a past life, Harry?” Louis asked, chuckling a little. “Why are you hanging your head out there? You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Harry shouted back, a little louder than necessary to speak over the wind rushing past his ears, “Always had a high core temp. I never get sick!”

“Suit yourself!” Louis yelled back, smirk still firmly in place, but he did so while pushing the button that controlled the windows up and Harry was forced to slide his head back in. He yelped in affront, but Louis answered with his _“what are you going to do about it”_ face so Harry was basically screwed.

“Did anyone ever tell you, you’re as stubborn as Jasper?”

“I take that as a compliment, actually.” Louis laughed good naturedly and the act made his eyes crinkle. He looked good like that, Harry decided, studying Louis’ profile, rested and somehow more at ease than he usually was in Harry’s presence. “You should try and get to know Jasper better, he’s great.”

Harry hummed, noncommittally. He prefered his rides to be a bit smaller, thanks. But since he wasn’t prepared to let his mind wander there right this second, he changed the subject.

“Hey, can you tell me a bit more about Winnie and Thomas before we get there?” Harry asked. “I don’t want to say or do anything that I shouldn’t.”

Louis scratched at the back of his neck. “I doubt you’ll offend her, she does most of the talking anyway. You should get along, she’s as chatty as you are, actually.” The way he delivered his answer was dry, but Harry caught the slight turn up of Louis’ lip. “Thomas is more quiet, always has been, but when she was diagnosed, he really—  How should I put it?” He stopped for a few seconds, lips pursed and moving from side to side adorably. “Thomas was a woodsman. He worked for the Sheerans and when we were kids, we used to work there, on the weekends, holidays, that sort of thing. Thomas was the one who was assigned to keep an eye on us, show us the ropes. He was basically a glorified babysitter.”

Louis scrunched his nose, trying to hide his smile at the memory.

“He was always complaining, but we knew he loved it. I think he felt rejuvenated by it, chasing us around and laughing with us. When it was time to work, he was professional and focused, but he was patient and kind to us, especially to me, because I think he felt that I was serious about the job, that I had a special connection to it.” Louis sighed, shaking his head slightly, “There was something in his eyes, something like mischief and happiness and vibrancy. A twinkle. It was gone when she was diagnosed.”

When Louis turned to look at Harry, there was an intensity to his posture, like he got it. Louis got what it felt like to lose the person you loved the most. To Harry, It felt somehow even more torturous to lose them when they were still here, like Winnie was. Only a shadow of what she used to be. It made Harry’s heart ache for the both of them.

“So you spent your weekdays with Winnie in school and your weekends with Thomas?” The realisation made Harry dimple. Louis’ attachment to that family made all the sense in the world.

“Basically, yeah.” Louis gave him a genuine smile, obviously glad Harry got it without having to explain in length (which was something Louis didn’t like. _Shockingly_ ). “I love them a lot.” He admitted, eyes back on the road, “They’re like a second family to me, or a third, I don’t know, something like that.”

Harry nodded, biting back the crazy urge to reach out to Louis’ hand, resting on the gearshift. He meant it as a comforting gesture but he was pretty sure Louis would bite his head off if he followed through. Harry told himself it was okay, he was getting so good at reading Louis’ silences, at _reading Louis_ , and that was already something.

  
  

 

Winnie and Thomas’ house, at first glance, reminded Harry of Louis’ home, though the exterior had visibly suffered many more winters. Harry followed Louis inside after a cursory knock on the heavy pine door that marked the entry. The home had clearly never been modernized, but the dark wooden furniture was polished and clean, as were the pitted surfaces of the hardwood floors. The house was homey, lived in and with the fire burning in the stone hearth inside the dining room, Harry felt right at home almost immediately.

Winnie was the one to greet them, emerging from the back of the house when Louis called for her and Thomas. She looked good, better than the first time Harry saw her, her purple woolen dress suited her and the hint of lipstick that graced her lips showed that she put effort into her appearance. And when she smiled, Louis visibly relaxed before hugging her hello. Harry quickly came to realize that Louis looked _relieved_.

Thomas wasn’t far behind her and the first thing he said upon seeing Louis was, “It’s a good day.” Thomas squeezed Louis’ shoulder and nodded which only confirmed Harry’s suspicions.

“Louis, dear?” Winnie chirped, already heading towards the living room, “would you take Howard’s coat for me?”

“Howard?” Harry mouthed, grinning slightly to Louis.

“His name is Hagrid!” Louis threw over his shoulder, grabbing Harry’s coat from his arms, “Howard is such a dumb name, Winnie, come on!”

“I’m not a Hagrid.” Harry pouted, tugging at his dress shirt to make himself presentable. “In that case, I prefer Howard.”

“Howard sounds like the fake name someone would give themselves, if they were a psychopath. Howard belongs in jail. You’re definitely not a Howard. No one likes that dude.”

Harry looked up sharply. “Louis Tomlinson. Are you telling me you finally _like_ me?” He tried to keep the cheeky smile at bay but he spectacularly failed. Louis rolled his eyes and refrained from answering but it was clear that he didn’t know how to deal with Harry, uneasy with his openly cheeky banter.

Harry wasn’t flirting, not really. He just liked when he was the one pulling the rug from beneath Louis’ feet instead of the other way around for once. It was nice to be able to make Louis fluster that particularly attractive shade of pink, nice to be the cause of the nervous scratch behind Louis’ neck.

Okay maybe Harry was flirting a tiny, wee bit.

As Winnie served them drinks, she kept calling Harry Hagrid. He tried to correct her the first time but Louis cut in immediately, preventing him to do so. Harry let it happen after that, especially since it seemed to cause great delight to Louis, smiling just a little bit wider everytime Winnie mispronounced like Louis was getting away with something naughty. It took Louis ten minutes to clear things up, but seeing that twinkle in his eye was totally worth the mild disgrace. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Louis smile for so long before. It certainly beat the irritated look he sported too often, or the flash of sadness Harry sometimes caught when Louis didn’t know Harry was looking.

As it turned out, Winnie and Thomas were great hosts as well as wonderful people. As soon as Harry’s profession was divulged, Winnie sat beside him on the couch, demanding to know everything that had been happening at the school. Harry was happy to oblige and proceeded to tell her in length about his project to build school spirit.

“I’m organizing an axe-throwing contest.” Harry couldn’t help but say it a little louder so that Louis — who was sitting beside him but talking to Thomas —  would hear it. “Was Louis’ idea actually.”

Louis immediately whipped his head in Harry’s direction. “No you’re not. You’re going to kill yourself. I was joking. Obviously.”

“You worried about me?” Harry was joking (still _not_ flirting), but the mere thought caused electric tingles to shoot behind his ribs.

Louis frowned. “I’ve seen the way you handle your feet. This is how you ended up in my house in the first place. I doubt you’re any better with those great paws the size of dish plates you call hands.”

“Heyyyy.” Harry pouted, even though, Louis wasn’t necessarily wrong about the feet thing. Harry’s gaze fell on his own hands, a little self-consciously. “Who says I’m participating anyway?”

“Aren’t you?” Louis asked, suspiciously.

“Of course I am. I’m the boss.” Harry flashed a cheeky wink, “I have to set a good example.”

Louis snorted at the word “Boss”, but his breath hitched immediately after, features dropping their happy turn and smile changing into the characteristic grim line amid his thick stubble.

It took a second for Harry to finally put the pieces of what had just happened together: Winnie flashed Thomas a knowing look at his and Louis’ banter. And that made Louis put a stop to it immediately.

“Teddy better watch out. Harry is going to give him a run for his money.” She chuckled, but she was the only one in the room to do so. Thomas’ shoulders dropped, the brown of his eyes turning glossy.

“Winnie.” Thomas said, sadness coloring his voice. “We’ve talked about this, remember? Teddy is—  ” He sighed, dragging a tired hand across his face and Harry felt Louis tense immediately. Thomas lifted his gaze up to lock eyes with Louis, a silent question lingering there.

Imperceptibly, Louis nodded and Thomas relaxed.

“— Not afraid of a little competition. Right Harry?” Thomas continued. Harry almost dropped his glass.

It took several beats for Harry to find his voice again. He tried to lock eyes with Louis, hoping to find a little guidance there, but Louis’ gaze was shifty, stubbornly trained on his own lap. Harry was left alone to fend for himself. “Sure. Err. ” He settled on non-committal and it made Winnie smile. Harry didn’t know if it was a good thing or not.

In fact, come to think of it, Harry didn’t know what to make of the whole ordeal, other than it made him uncomfortable. It felt like he was a sitting duck in an enormous minefield, when Harry was no soldier.

As Winnie left the room to check on the roast cooking in the kitchen, Thomas turned to him at once.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, it’s just that I don’t want to upset her.”

Louis interfered, but he sounded more defeated than anything else. “Doctor Avery said to try and change the subject when this happens, not encourage her delusion.”

Thomas balled his hands into fists over the table. “Yeah? Well Doctor Avery is not the one who has to live with the ghost of his wife,” Thomas shouted. “I just want my wife back for a day, is it too much to ask?” The sudden outburst surprised Thomas as his eyes turned wide and his mouth fell open. “I’m so sorry, Louis. I— “ Hurriedly, Thomas rose to his feet excusing himself to the bathroom.

And then, they were two.

It was instinct for Harry to let his nails drag on the velvet of the couch until they hit the side of Louis’ thigh. If he had stopped to think about it, he probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to thumb at Louis’ thigh, digit catching at the inseam of Louis’ jeans and just pressing there in a silent gesture of comfort.

If Louis felt it, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Louis had a little trouble finding his footing again during lunch, or so Harry concluded. Louis was still chit-chatting politely about nothing in particular, the weather, his work, Jasper, some mutual acquaintances Harry had vaguely heard about around town, but Harry just _knew_. He recognised something in Louis that he’d seen the week before in the supermarket, some phantom pain invisible to the naked eye but that showed in the set of his shoulders, like something was weighing on them.

Louis wouldn’t ever be described as a big man, but he appeared almost dainty when things like this happened.

“Tell me you rehearsed for the talent show on Saturday.” Winnie asked, cutting through Harry’s thoughts and adding another scoop of peas onto Louis’ plate.

“I’m— I— Yes, sure?” Louis squeaked. Thomas, on the other hand, looked relieved by the answer.

“Louis.” she scolded, “You are made for the stage, we talked about this, I know Teddy is the front man of ‘Splinters’ but you could at least sing one song? Please?”

“But we’re doing ‘Little Bird’, you love that song, Winnie.”

“I do, believe me, it’s a bop.  And if Teddy wanted to become a full time singer, I’d completely support him! Some days I wonder if there is anything that boy can’t do. He’s a born showman, but what about you, sweetie?”

(All of this information went on the already long long _long_ list of things Teddy Sheeran was good at. For an unfathomable reason, It irked Harry a tiny bit, fed something green residing in the pit of his stomach. He resolutely shook off the feeling.)

“Me?” Louis spread his fingers against his ribcage, eyebrows shooting up at Winnie’s inquiry.

Winnie cocked her head to the side, her face turning soft. “You love music.”

Louis chuckled at that. “I do, but I’ve never been one to chase the spotlight, you know that. I’m happy with the way things are, I love being on keys and back up vocals, Zayn wouldn’t give up the bass and Liam rocks at drums. Everyone is doing what they want to do, don’t worry. Plus, I’m not sure I could pull it off to be honest.”

Winnie ignored Louis to turn to Harry, “He has such a unique voice, you should hear him.”

Harry was flabbergasted to say the least, not knowing if any of this was true or not. Sure there were guitars hanging on the wall of his room but he never saw Louis play any of them, the piano in the living room was collecting dust, Louis didn’t even listen to the radio, preferring the sound of silence, which made Harry a little (a lot) crazy.

Louis _scolded_ Harry for daring to sing in the shower for crying out loud.

“I had no idea you liked music.” Harry’s surprise showed through his tone and Louis shrugged dismissively.

“Louis writes all the band’s songs.” Winnie explained, like a proud mother would. “A real poet.”

“Stop building me up!” Louis laughed bashfully then, topping everyone’s glass of wine. “You’re worse than my mom.”

It did start to look like a _Who Wants to Marry my Son_ rerun. It made Harry smile, nonetheless. It was nice seeing this other side of Louis, the softer, artistic side of him Harry hadn’t suspected, because until then, if Louis was a song, he’d have been Rihanna’s “Work Work Work”.

After dinner, Louis helped Thomas with the dishes, while Harry stayed in the living room with Winnie. He would have helped in the kitchen but he felt like Thomas and Louis needed the alone time to talk and he didn’t want to intrude. He didn’t mind Winnie’s company anyway, she was really a force of nature and quite the entertainer —  Alzheimer’s setbacks aside. He replied to each and every one of her questions about all the places he’d visited with a smile, and he was glad to be the source of her delighted interest, but he couldn’t help but notice that she started to grow quieter as the minutes passed, her movements turning heavy and her features looking tired.

“Winnie, would you like to lie down, perhaps?”

She looked up, startled back to life, almost offended. “Not when I have guests, who do you take me for?”

“Yes, yes, naturally.” Harry scratched at his non existent stubble, looking around, the quiet hush of Louis and Thomas conversation drowned in washing water in the background. His eyes fell on a book on the coffee table and an idea popped into his head.  

“Err-– do you mind if I read to you for a bit?”

With a grateful smile, Winnie agreed. She was out like a light, snoring softly on the sofa before Harry even finished reading the prologue of Gone With The Wind.

On the ride back, Harry couldn’t keep to himself all the questions bubbling in the back of his mind any longer.

“Were you really in a band?” Harry blurted, without preamble, as soon as he fastened his seatbelt. “What was your band’s name again?”

“Splinters.” Louis huffed but _didn’t_ expand. (so _infuriatingly_ Louis, it hurt. There was being a man of few words and then, there was _Louis_.)

Harry nodded amiably. “Cool.” Harry could barely play the triangle, so mastering an instrument was nothing short of impressive in his book.

“I wanted to call the band ‘Teddy’s Wood’ but the boys vetoed it back then.” Louis said, his laugh was sudden, short and surprised, like he just remembered it. “They were scared of the principal’s reaction, the wimps. I just really wanted to see Miss Boyle’s face when she would have introduced us at homecoming. _That_ would have been priceless. _Ladies and Gentlemen, give a warm welcome to Teddy’s Wood!”_

Louis’ good natured laugh tail ended as a sigh.

Harry had to turn away, to hide his growing smile. To anyone, it was the most pedestrian conversation one could have: a memory shared between what could barely qualify as friends, but it was the first time Teddy was evoked and Louis didn’t shut down or show sadness immediately after.

So, to Harry, it looked suspiciously like a victory.

  
  

 

Harry woke up to the sound of a faint laugh that wasn’t Louis’. It was a man’s voice, low and guttural, it had a rich silky tone that Harry was sure he’d never heard before. A quick glance to his alarm showed it was almost 3 am.

Past the first moment of annoyance where he entertained the idea that Louis had a nightly visitor, he strained into the darkness to check for himself. The thought in itself was ridiculous, for at least 28 different reasons Harry wasn’t awake enough to list. Logically he _knew_ this.

He still had to check.

In the hallway, he followed the sound of Louis’ voice, even though it sounded a little different, void from its usual rasp, more mellow, like butter left out of the fridge. He went down the stairs, a fleece blanket wrapped around his shoulders to fight off the chill of the night. Guided by the voices laced together in a laugh, he slowly began to realise what he was about to stumble upon in the living room.

He blamed the lack of sleep for not figuring it out sooner.

Even though dread had his stomach locked up tight, pushing against him like an invisible gale, he continued, curiosity getting the best of him.  

He stopped dead in his tracks, once the back of Louis’ head came into view, a mess of brown just going past the top of the sofa. When Harry tilted his head, he noticed the soft glow of the TV illuminating the side of Louis’ face, making his cheekbone look even sharper than usual. He didn’t notice Harry, his soft, iridescent eyes trained on the screen, where a much younger version of himself was kneeled alongside Teddy on the scattered hay of a wooden stall, between a beaten up bucket and a grain scoop.

There was a horse there, or rather a mare, lying on its side. Louis was behind it, rubber gloves up to his elbows, pulling on the hooves that were sticking out of the horses’ behind, helping it give birth.

_“You’re still young enough to go to vet school, you’d be great at it, I’d hold down the fort, that’s all I’m saying.” Teddy said in a way that suggested they’d had this conversation before._

_“Babe, I know we promised Always & Forever but my hands are touching a vagina. Don’t try and take advantage of this moment to push a 6-year curriculum on me. I already have a job.” _

Teddy’s laugh could be heard in the speakers as well as the person’s holding the camera, who Harry soon realized was Niall.

_“This is definitely a first.” Teddy agreed, repositioning Louis’ hands on the foal’s hooves. After landing a quick peck on the crown of Louis’ hair, he murmured, “you’re doing amazing, sweetheart.”_

Louis’ cheeks turned adorably pink at that, more visible because he was shaven clean.

_“What are you going to name it, Lou?” Niall asked, breaking the moment._

_“I don’t know! How should I know?”_

_Teddy was all too happy to side with his brother. “It’s your horse!”_

_Louis, despite having his hands full, seemed to pause to think about it then he shrugged as if to say ‘I don’t care’._

_Teddy clasped a tender hand over Louis’ shoulder. “Come on, It’ll be good practice for when we choose baby names.”_

_Before Louis could react, the mare got another contraction, and the newborn was pushed out of its mother’s womb, Louis helping it to the hay covered ground, it legs kicking in a tiny jagged motion under Niall’s and Teddy’s cheers and words of praise._

_“Congratulations! It’s a boy!” Niall just short of howled, the picture on the screen getting blurry thanks to his flailing arms. Still, there was a glimpse of Teddy picking Louis up, twirling him in the air, a kiss dissolving into a splutter of laughs._

_Eyes shining and a smile splitting his face, Louis murmured, “Jasper. I’m naming him Jasper.”_

Louis’ breathing hitched. Real, live, present Louis, so Harry hunched onto himself, trying to make himself smaller, invisible in the shadows of the poorly lit living room. But it was unnecessary, as Louis didn’t pay attention to him in the slightest.

Sniffling, Louis turned the TV off and carefully, almost reverently, put the dvd back into its plastic case and onto the little shelf above the TV screen. He folded his favorite blanket and put it back neatly on the arm of the couch, where it usually lay, removing every trace of his nocturnal escapade. If Harry had come downstairs to have a glass of water now, he’d never have guessed Louis had been there in the first place.

Harry imagined that was the point.

With a sigh, Louis went to the door, put his woolen jacket on, followed by the boots that were a permanent fixture at the entrance, and closed the door behind himself with a soft click.

A few minutes later, as Harry approached the window, ignoring the little ugly voice in the back of his mind that was calling him a creep with a capital C, he followed the movement of Louis’ shadow into the night until it reached the dangerously crooked overhang of the barn. And then the light went on, Louis was with Jasper.

Harry went back to his bed, where usually sleep came like the falling of an axe. Not this time though, he was too wired for that.

He tried to get rid of the lump that was lodged in his throat in vain. He spent too much time trying to identify the feeling that seeing Teddy spurred in him. Hearing his voice, his laugh, seeing him _in the flesh_ , no longer a glossy paper inanimate thing? It sparked feelings that suspiciously seemed like jealousy.

As he recalled the way Louis smiled at Teddy in the home video — bright and open and happy and infectious —  a true ray of sunshine; Harry also realised with a clench of his heart that he wanted nothing more than to be sunburned.

  
  

 

Logging season had ended and it was now time for Louis to start on deliveries. Harry noticed rather quickly that this part of the job was time-consuming enough for several people, let alone for Louis all by himself.

Even though Louis didn’t trust a lot of people, he had a system, a well-oiled machine that required all hands on deck to supply every Abateemat’s household with woodstock in record time. Casey took care of Louis’ orders and his website (Harry learned that Louis employing  her as a part time secretary for his business was how they had become friends). But for the physical work, Louis’ team of gophers consisted mainly of Niall, Liam, and Zayn but also apparently Harry — Louis begrudgingly admitted through gritted teeth that Harry’s people’s skills might, maybe, _perhaps_ , possibly be an asset when it came to selling stuff — the whole scene was hilarious

Time was of the essence here: Louis might have been the main supplier for Abateemat and a number of cities around it from Edmunston to Moncton, but logging was also a competitive business, so there wasn’t any minute to spare. Once the snow started to fall, there wouldn’t be any loyal, regular customers to count on, the clients would go find their firewood where it was immediately available, none of them wanting to succumb to the unforgiving Canadian winter.

Harry found that manual labor agreed with him. Loading and unloading cubic meters of firewood and piling it into people’s basements after a day at school was straining, sure, but he counted it as healthy bodily fatigue the same way he did when he ran 10 kilometers. At the end of a 14 hour day like that, he was sore as hell and slept like a log.

On Saturday, the boys were expected to help from dawn ‘til dusk. Harry provided sandwiches that they ate in the back of the truck, parked in front of customers’ lawns so they wouldn’t waste any precious time. When they laughed the hardest and swore and shared stories and jokes, it helped them cope with the cold that was starting to settle in New Brunswick. The ruckus carried across the grass until the clients offered them shelter but they refused, no one wanted to burst the bubble of camaraderie that had managed to materialize around them. It was theirs and theirs only, and Harry loved that. Loved the closeness, the feeling like he belonged in the group, loved that Louis seemed to relax around him, even if it was just a little bit.

On Sunday, they all rested.

Except for Harry and Louis who attended Sunday dinner at Winnie and Thomas’ even if Harry wanted to sleep for 20 hours straight. But if Louis had to go, then Harry had to also, Louis had proclaimed, tugging at the corner of Harry’s duvet and mumbling unflattering things about Harry’s stamina and general shape. His voice had an edge to it. Harry thought he probably meant it to be bitter and off-putting, but Harry read playfulness underneath, so he eventually got up, just to shut Louis up (and by that he meant shutting Louis out of the room while a smile played on his face).

During dinner, Thomas was eager to know how the first week of deliveries went, demanding to know every detail, and offering comment about every customer he knew. It took a moment, but Harry finally realized that Thomas was dying to help Louis with the task, but couldn’t because he had to look after Winnie, and before he knew it, Harry was offering to trade places: Harry would look after Winnie every day after school while Thomas would get back in the game with Louis.

Saying that Thomas was ecstatic at the proposition was an understatement.

The most rewarding thing, however, was Louis’ smile. It was so genuinely sweet, with just a touch of gratefulness, Harry’s knees were dangerously close to evaporating into thin air as his heart pounded hard and fast against his ribs. It was such a rare occurrence.

And to be the source of that smile? Well, it was nothing short of spectacular.   

  
  

After the first two days where Harry had to find his footing in Winnie’s house, things settled into a comfortable routine. Harry would go straight to Thomas’ house after school and Thomas would catch Harry up on Winnie’s current mood/meds/food regimen/doctor’s instruction. As it turned out, Winnie didn’t only have Alzheimer’s, she also had high cholesterol and hypertension.

Thomas always made sure Winnie recognized Harry before leaving and so far Harry had been lucky, she was more often lucid than not, thankfully.

Thanks to Thomas’ thorough briefing (and his own research on the matter), Harry quickly learned ways to distract her when she would drift off or get panicky because something seemed out of the ordinary (mainly when she forgot where her husband went or who Harry was). Still, he was determined not to call Thomas at every little thing, mostly so Thomas could enjoy his time with the boys who he’d seen grow up, but also so Harry could prove to himself (and maybe a little bit to Louis) that he could be trusted.

When she was lucid, Winnie loved it when Harry read to her. So he did, every day, tirelessly for hours. Once she was fed and settled in her favorite armchair, he listened. Winnie loved to fill in Harry on her life story be it how she met her husband or how passionate she was about women’s rights. Harry found her absolutely fascinating.

She was also obviously fond of Harry, and she told him often. Finding a comforting shoulder to lean on without burdening her husband was something she’d secretly wanted for a long time.

“I’m feeling my mind breaking a little more every day. I asked him to put me in a home but he doesn’t want to.” She huffed one night.

“Of course he doesn’t. He loves you.” Harry tapped the top of her hand gently.

She rolled her eyes. “Big deal. I don’t want him to see me like this. I still have some dignity, you know? I don’t want this for him, he deserves better that to take care of a lunatic.”

“Oh my God, you’re not a lunatic!” Harry corrected, “You have an illness. And you made vows, the both of you, in sickness and in health. That obviously means something.”

“Meh, I lied for mine, if he turned impotent I would have left without a second thought,” she dismissed.

Just like that the atmosphere in the room shifted as she burst out laughing, an infectious giggle that Harry mimicked and turned into tears streaming down both their hiccupy faces.  

They eventually settled into a comfortable, huffy silence.

“The truth is, I don’t want this to be the way Thomas remembers me, when my head is all gone.” She said, staring quietly out of the window, hands intertwined together on her lap. “I don’t want to forget, and— I don’t want to be forgotten.”

Harry watched her, alarmed and out of sorts, not knowing what to say for a few beats as the words bit into his skin, until an idea popped into his head, just like they always did.

“How do you want to be remembered?” He asked, already reaching for a notebook on Thomas’ desk.

“Like I made a difference in people’s live.” Her eyes were elsewhere, a pinch of skin puckering between her brows.

“Okay.” Harry said, uncapping the pen with gusto. “Here’s what we’re going to do from now on. Instead of reading, I will put down on paper everything you want to say or remember, your life story.”

“Like a memoir?”

“More like a memory book,” Harry explained, “It’ll be good for you, when you feel like everything is foreign, you can read it, it’ll help you remember.”

He read somewhere it was a tool used for patients suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s, it didn’t occur to him that he could be the one to write it.

At first Harry thought they would start small, but once the gates were open, Winnie talked and talked like she was in a hurry, like anything could happen to her any moment. It gave her purpose, and it felt as if she had more energy, the twinkle in her eye more present than ever as she recalled her childhood, how she and Thomas first met, or what she was the most proud of in her life.

Every day she ran her fingers over the little book of prized memories, something she quickly grew to treasure, as a bridge to the past and a connection to the present.

“Thomas and I, we don’t have kids. It wasn’t by choice.” She recalled during one of their sessions, a hint of regret in her voice, “so my work at school was all the more important. I called them my kids. Still do.”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t the first time that day. He knew she was about to tell another story about Louis, as she so regularly did when school was brought up. Harry wouldn’t say anything but his heart skipped a beat every time Winnie mentioned a young and carefree Louis, someone that seemed both familiar and foreign to Harry.

It felt so heartwarming to learn more about him through her loving eyes.

They also had regular laughs as they compared notes about the school that he was now working in.

The lock of the third floor bathroom was still broken fifteen years later and the 4th step of the left bleachers was still creaking, Mister Roberts was still teaching and still wearing a toupee that didn’t fool anyone.

She still had trouble believing that some of the staff was replaced by kids that she taught music to, back in the day. Niall being her replacement? Impossible. That kid was too preoccupied by girls to learn solfeggio properly.

“Not girls, plural. A girl.” Harry laughed, “you’ll be happy to know, not much has changed in that department, he’s still head over heels over Casey after all this time.”

“Casey?” Winnie seemed to search her memory, “As in Casey Russell? Petite, cute, one hell of mathlete?”

“The one and only! She’s my assistant. And Louis’ too, remember?”

She hummed, squinting her eyes and scratching at her forearm absently.

“I liked her. Too soft, wore her heart on her sleeve. She was always hanging around rehearsing in my music room her first year, she wanted to play a song at the winter formal, but there was an accident so the evening was cut short and she couldn’t play. She was devastated, cried about the fake snow canon and the ice sculpture and dancing under the pretty ribbons. She was never the same after that. Wouldn’t believe in romance anymore.You know how fifteen-year old girls are.”

_And what?_

“What?” Harry sat up straighter in his chair, his notebook closing with a clap between his knees. “Are you sure it was Casey Russell, you’re not confusing her with someone else?”

“Pretty sure. Why?”

Because Casey Russell was a thorn in his side when it came to the winter formal he was trying to reinstate, that was why. She was a model of efficiency, a magician of numbers and a master of organization but she was also uncompromising when it came to fun.

Who would have thought she was in fact a giant pile of mush, carefully hidden under a big stack of judgmental stares and sarcasm. Not Harry that was for sure.

“Mmmmh. No reason.” Harry lips stretched into a smile. “Do you remember what song she wanted to sing?”

 

  

 

Beside deliveries, the end of logging season also meant Louis was focused on the upkeep of his gear. He described it as a tedious task but the axes _weren’t going to sharpen themselves,_ _Styles_ , as he gruffly put it.

At the end of each day, while Harry was fixing a quick dinner for the both of them, Louis would sharpen an axe, clean a chainsaw or a wood splitter, polish a trailer, verify a harness, or something else Jasper needed in order to do his job, so it would either be ready or replaced for next season. Once Louis would finish, he could finally rest for the entirety of winter, a welcome, much needed reprieve.

Louis maintaining his equipment was a trying task. Especially for Harry, who found the act particularly _distracting_ , for lack of a better, _more appropriate_ word.

The way Louis completely leaned forward to pick up an axe for logging was a good example. His taut work jeans would cling snugly to his thighs, putting his perfect ass on display, and his rucked up plaid shirt would reveal a sliver of smooth and tattooed skin every time he stretched, his happy trail leading the way down down down to the elastic band of his underwear.

As Louis worked, Harry had trouble not to follow every bead of sweat that went travelling down his damp dirty forehead and the column of his throat to finally get lost in the collar of his white undershirt, patched wet with more perspiration.

It was hot. _He_ was hot.

Harry didn’t know if it was Winnie’s stories about him that were playing tricks on his mind or something else entirely, but Louis occupied his thoughts, even more so than usual and in a totally new _dangerous_ manner.

_Perfection in plaid._

In the end, the realisation that he might actually _like_ Louis hit Harry like a ton of bricks. So much so in fact that he became achingly aware of his body and how different it acted around Louis. It turned awkward and stiff, like all of a sudden his skin felt too tight, constricting like he grew a size overnight and his skin didn’t get the memo.

Worse, it seemed like Louis _noticed_ something was off, sending him puzzled glances every time Harry cleared his throat or bumped into something because Louis did something as pedestrian as lacing his boots.

It was disconcerting given that Louis wasn’t even his type in the first place. Harry usually favored fashionable, easy going dudes that were up for a good time. They were also often smaller than him, dark haired, and gifted in the ass departement —  but that was beside the point.

Louis was an attractive guy, sure, but it now woke Harry up in the middle of the night with a hard on, and well that was _new_.

The point was, he wasn’t into the broody type with baggage. Or facial hair. Or ice blue piercing eyes. Or glasses that framed the face so perfectly it made the eyes pop once they were worn to read in front of an open fire and—

“It’s out of tune.” Niall’s matter-of-fact voice startled Harry out of his introspective trance. He forgot it was game night. _Among other things._

“What?”

“The piano. It’s out of tune.” Oh. Harry was seated at the piano before his mind started to play tricks on him, the traitor. He wasn’t supposed to get caught. He got distracted ( _again_ ) watching Louis work in the yard through the window. His shoulders had the rounded look that years of logging wood gave, but the thing Harry noticed the most this time was the way the muscles of his back moved under the flannel and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows that revealed tanned, muscular, tattooed, straining arms and delicate wrists. How could his wrists be so delicate—  Right, Niall was talking to him.

“Oh. Yeah, okay.”

“You play?” Niall asked, leaning against the dining table.

“No. Well, a bit, just children’s songs.” Harry smiled crookedly, feeling the back of his neck heat up, “‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’, ‘Happy Birthday’, those songs. I lack the concentration to play an instrument.”

Niall chuckled easily and unfolded his arms. “I’m not surprised, you can hardly stay in one place.”

“I get jittery easily. My mom used to say I just had to find _the thing_ that I could channel all my energy in. Still haven’t found it by the way.” Harry winked, standing up and dusting off his pants.

“I can teach you if you want. At school, though, you wouldn’t be able play anything without your ears bleeding with this thing.” Niall approached the keys, delicately closing the lid. “Don’t let Lou catch you here, he’d throw a fit and I really want to win at Monopoly tonight.”

“He’s not ready to hear music again.” Harry murmured, mostly to himself. It made sense. Everything around the house was charged with memories.

Niall hummed, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, a knowing smile on his friendly face. “I’m not so sure about that, I think he’s almost there.”

It sounded hopeful and benevolent. It also sounded like he was talking about something else entirely.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I wouldn’t squeeze Doctor Avery in somewhere?
> 
> Winnie and Thomas’ characters/storyline are loosely based on The Notebook.


	6. Chapter 6

“You see, we’re tired, my heart and I.”

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

When Harry announced to Niall, Zayn, and Liam that he was going to throw a last minute garage sale, the reactions weren’t exactly what he’d hoped for.

“Are you kidding?” Zayn complained, “we’re already stretched to the bone between teaching, the activities you already planned, and Louis’ deliveries.”

“And we don’t need more money, Casey’s budget is flawless.” Niall took offense, like Casey’s honor needed defending.

“We need more money for the fake snow canon and the ice sculpture.” Harry said, like that explained it all. By his calculations they were short something like six hundred dollars. And the more he thought about it, the more appealing the fake snow sounded — even without taking Niall’s love life into account, maybe it was his vanity talking, but he really wanted to go out with a bang.

Harry found himself facing a wall of disbelief. The three men’s faces washed blank with confusion reminding Harry of Louis’ own when he laid out his plan that very morning.  

_“Fake sn— Styles!” Louis had said, “this is fucking Canada, there will be plenty of real snow for your formal!”_

Louis stalked away wordlessly, heels of his boots clicking through the house’s empty halls. He didn’t even let Harry finish his explanation. In his defense, the man worked sixteen hours a day these days so it was understandable his patience was running thin, it was foolish to expect him to feel the romance behind the gesture.

Harry wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

“What if I told you fake snow, an ice sculpture and ‘Winter Song’ by Sara Bareilles were actually the key to Casey’s heart?” Harry said with the raise of his eyebrows, “And I have it on good authority.”

“Tell me more.” Niall said eagerly.

As Harry repeated what Winnie had told him word for word, Niall’s eyes went from gleaming with interest to alarmed then back to hopeful again.

“Oh my god, no wonder she hates me,” Niall said, and Harry was about to ask why but Niall cut him off with an imperious hand twirling beside his face. “We absolutely need all those things, yes.”

The other boys quietly chuckled, Liam shaking his head while Zayn just shrugged, both his hands buried deep in his pockets. Harry was lucky his team was this easy going. He supposed it was what came from practically living in each other’s pockets these days.

Of course, Casey deemed the garage sale unnecessary, mainly because she didn’t know what the profits were for. Harry finally convinced her by claiming it was a precaution just in case something else went south and Casey, being Casey, begrudgingly agreed. Harry knew he had her at the word “precaution”, God forbid something unplanned happened under that woman’s watch.

She had a big storm coming, pun fully intended.

Once the idea was planted, Niall was completely on board with the new plan. Starting with scouting for snow machines to rent at an acceptable fee, as well as interviewing ice sculptors. And it wasn’t unusual to hear a few notes of “Winter Song” when Harry would visit Niall in the auditorium on “principal business”.

Niall also started listing all the possessions he could sell to make it happen (he was so invested, Harry was surprised his _own_ _soul_ wasn’t on the list). Thoroughly, he logged the location and the price he could hope to get for each item (Casey and Niall so obviously belonged together, Harry painfully noticed, they would raise perfectly organized babies).

What surprised Harry even more, was that a good chunk of the things listed were stored either in Louis’ barn or his attic and Harry wasn’t convinced everything on the list truly belonged to Niall.

He made a mental note to check for himself later.

 

  

 

“Louis?”

Harry felt weirdly unsettled. Maybe because of the impending storm that was shy of breaking any minute. The wind was howling outside the window like the opening of some bad horror movie but aside from that, it was deadly quiet in the house, too quiet. Louis required it when he was looking over his books.

But silence always felt bizarrely unnatural to Harry, like dawn without a birdsong to accompany it.

As silence lingered in the air, Harry shivered in the living room’s open space that now felt claustrophobic. Tersely, his eyes flickered to Louis again.

“Lou-eh.”

“Mmmh?” Louis was frowning between one of his worn out leather accounting books, and his computer, glasses perched low on his nose. He was in a mood, but he was wearing a cute robe, so Harry counted it as a win.

"Louis, can I have a chunk of your wood?" Harry smiled at the innuendo; of course it flew so above Louis’ head it was almost comical. Bless his clueless soul and glorious ass. 

At that, Louis looked up, adjusting his glasses, studying him with narrowed blue eyes hidden under a frown. "Why?" 

"I'm bored. I want to try something. For Winnie." Harry rushed, throwing the magic words into the air. 

"That's my income, pal." 

"I'll pay you,” Harry rolled his eyes internally, like he often did when Louis was difficult for no good reason, “how much do you want for one small log?" 

"I don't know! I don’t sell it by the piece!" Louis raised his voice, fist connecting with the book. 

Harry cocked his head to the side. “Would you like some help with whatever’s been bothering you?” He said, patiently, in the same tone he would use with a stubborn teenager in his office.

Lips falling open in surprise, it took an instant for Louis to react. "Go get the damned piece of wood! And while you're at it, take it to the barn. Bother the horse for a while!" 

Harry suppressed a smile, turned on his heels and on his way out the door, threw over his shoulder, "All this aggression, Louis. You should really try and find an outlet!”

  
  

 

Louis wasn’t worried, per se. Not about Harry anyway, that would be ridiculous since he was a grown ass man. _At least most of the time_.

It was just— the wind was screaming and thunder rumbled fully now, jagged flashes of lightning bolts cracking the midnight sky. The trees were creaking, bending and moaning and the rain was merciless, torrential, and showed no sign of ceasing.

The power hadn’t given out yet, but Louis knew it was only a matter of time before everything would turn to dark. So he went and rummaged under the sink for flashlights and made sure the back up generator was ready to go when needed.

That old barn of his was still standing.

He put on a parka and crossed the yard as quickly as he could (it was useless as he was drenched in seconds). He was sure he would find both Jasper and Harry shaking like leaves.

What he didn’t expect however, was to find Harry facing Jasper, with his headphones on singing gently to a Rolling Stones song while carving what looked like a horse’s head out of one of Louis’ logs. It wasn’t close to being done, but Louis could recognise the strong shape of a muzzle and a crest, brought to life in the eye of a tornado of wood shavings made by Harry’s fast pocket knife.

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain_

_Now you've decided to show me the same_

_No sweeping exit or offstage lines_

_Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind_

[ _Wild horses_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQTHB4jM-KQ) _couldn't drag me away_

His voice carried in the big, cluttered space — a low, smooth, rumble and, much like any time he crooned, he reminded Louis of a singing bird. Harry was often found singing or humming _something_ (systematically in the shower no matter how many times Louis asked him to stop, which was _often_ and Louis ultimately gave up, Harry’s voice wasn’t _unpleasant_ after all.)

Harry was sat on a small stool, his back to the door, both legs extended around a log and his upper body was moving gently to the music. A soft, delicate contrast to what was raging outside.

_I know I've dreamed you a sin and a lie_

_I have my freedom but I don't have much time_

_Faith has been broken tears must be cried_

_Let's do some living after we die_

Louis shook himself out of his raincoat, swept a hand through his drenched fringe then made a beeline for Jasper, who was huffy and unsettled — not unlike Harry himself earlier —  and Louis knew the minute Harry noticed him, because he stopped singing immediately.

“I tried my best to calm him but I think he doesn’t like me much.” Harry said, from behind Louis. Louis didn’t think Harry was right, but he didn’t voice it. He could barely sort through his jumbled mind at the moment.

As Louis made his way inside Jasper’s stall, Harry kept a safe distance, leaning on the barrier.

“Hey buddy,” Louis hushed quietly, petting Jasper’s flank with wet fingers, “it’s going to be alright. You’re a good boy, yes you are.”

Louis felt a pang of guilt hitting his insides. With deliveries, he couldn’t spend every waking moment with his best friend but he always made sure they had some quality time at the end of each day. It didn’t seem like enough today.

Louis turned to Harry, “Singing to him is nice but he prefers to be petted and talked to.”

“Oh, so your horse has a praise kink? Good to know.” Harry deadpanned.

Louis snorted. “Who doesn’t?”

Harry dropped his gaze to the ground quickly, but not fast enough to hide his pleased expression.

“Come here, try it.”

It was adorable and maybe a tiny bit hot how fast Harry complied when he was asked to do something, even if he tripped over his feet striding the two meters separating them to do so.

Jasper was as uncomfortable as Harry, head swaying, and tail swishing, breathing huffily through his nose, but he let Harry come closer, regardless.

“Nice and slow.” Louis instructed, as he guided Harry’s wrist towards Jasper’s mane. Harry’s hand looked big under Louis’, his skin felt soft and clammy, betraying his nervousness, “go ahead then, talk to him, it’s all in the tone.”

Harry looked not quite sure as to how to address a horse but he tried it anyway. “You’re a good boy,” He murmured softly, as to not startle Jasper.

After a few seconds, he got bolder and dislodged his fingers from Louis’ (Louis absolutely didn’t feel a little bit mournful at the loss. No. His skin definitely didn’t prickle either). Harry’s fingers trailed to the side of Jasper’s muzzle then to his throat latch and withers and Louis joined him, gently stroking him along the flank and croup down to his powerful legs.

“You have no reason to be afraid, Jasper.” Harry soothed, “Everything is going to be alright.”

They continued like that until the horse calmed down, until his tail settled and his breathing evened and until Harry made a small satisfied sound.

“Told you Jasper was cool.” Louis said, punctuating his words with the grin of a cat that got the cream.

Harry just shrugged petulantly but his smile was one of a conqueror.

 

  

The next day, after the storm had subsided, time came to assess the damage caused around Louis’ property and in the woods.

Louis hoped it wouldn’t be so dire as to postpone Monday deliveries, but he still made a mental note to call for some reinforcement if it came to that. In the meantime, he had Harry who insisted on helping.

The first thing they checked, of course, was the house and its immediate surroundings. Everything was still in one piece aside from the barn’s overhang that had already been holding on by a thread but which Louis hadn’t gotten around to fixing before; it finally had collapsed during the night and Harry was adamant he would be able to do the necessary repairs in no time.

_“Please,” Harry had said, his big, earnest eyes blinking down to Louis, “you barely have any time to rest as it is, let me help. I’m good with this stuff.”_

Louis wasn’t really inclined to trust him no questions asked, but his gaze fell on the half finished wood sculpture inside the barn and thought that maybe ( _just maybe_ ) Harry wasn’t so incompetent after all. Plus Louis really needed the help right now and maybe ( _just maybe_ ), it felt nice to also be able to count on someone else to share some of his burdens.

The thing that worried Louis the most was Jasper’s pasture. It was situated at the far end of a small valley so it was bound to be flooded when heavy rain poured as it did the night before. Jasper would have to spend his days somewhere else for at least a day or two.

Then came the woodland. They had to check every parcel and that was a slow and ungrateful but vital task, even the light (one sided) conversation couldn’t fully make up for it.

As Louis inspected one of the great oak trees struck by lightning to check for damage, Harry started with ( _yet another_ ) one of his pointless bits of trivia he’d gathered through the numerous places he visited over the years.

“Did you know there’s [ an Oak Tree in the US that owns itself ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tree_That_Owns_Itself)?” Harry proclaimed.

Louis learned by now it was useless ignoring him while he got like this, he would just badger Louis until he gave a reply.

“You gotta be joking.”

“I’m serious! It has legal ownership over itself and of all land within two or three meters. It’s in Georgia.”

Louis pondered over Harry’s words for a bit. “That does sound like something stupid Americans would do. Those people elected Trump after all.”

Harry’s laugh was good natured. 

“It was hundreds of years old and it fell in the forties, because of a storm, I think? And then another one grew in its place from one of its acorns.” 

Louis hummed noncommittally, checking on another fallen tree. 

“Maybe you should choose an oak tree to do that as well, Louis.” Harry teased ( _at least Louis hoped he was joking_ ), “Could you imagine in two hundred years that tree never being cut down? Maybe people would come and visit that tree and you could, like, create a national landmark right on this very day, wouldn't that be cool?”  Harry exclaimed, sounding genuinely excited.

“Great! More trespassers in my woods, that’s exactly what I need!”

“Heyyyy.” Harry drawled, sticking out his tongue at him.

As it turned out, the woods were where Louis found the most detrimental effects. It was still fairly early in the day when they finally reached the patch of land where most of the trees had fallen or were damaged. It wasn’t the worst Louis had ever seen, but it wasn’t a pretty sight either.

He inspected every tree carefully, assessing which ones were goners (and had to explain why to Harry), which ones were salvageable even if they were missing major limbs (and laid out the reasons why to Harry) and which ones were borderline cases that would see their fate pending until Louis could make further assessment.

When in doubt, Louis would never cut a tree that wasn’t meant to be cut, much to Harry’s delight —  as if Louis’ profession consisted of killing trees.

“I plant saplings, Harry.” Louis informed him, feeling weirdly defensive, “Every spring, so the forest grows back, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re a grower, then. Noted.”

Louis wanted to strangle him, his jokes were terrible, but his timing was also usually quite good, the bastard. Louis schooled his features to something resembling boredom (he hoped).

As the day went by, Louis also counted the trees that would have to be cleared out before he made his way back to get his tools, the trailer, and Jasper for what he hoped would be his last mission of the season.

“I don’t get it.” Harry said, helping harness Jasper (that was certainly new). “Why do you need to clean the place out? It’ll take hours, it’s freaking cold and it’s so much farther than the spot you usually work on, too. Can’t you harvest that wood in the spring when the season picks up and sell it like the rest?”

“Not with the way they fell onto each other, no, they’ll rot. Worse, they can be a hazard for the other trees in their immediate vicinity.”

It took them a few hours to clean the whole spot, and Harry was surprisingly helpful, trading his usual designer jeans for Louis’ work ones to do so earlier (they were a little on the short side but Louis was certainly not saying anything out loud on the matter) and gloving up.

“Eventually new trees would grow though, right? Like the tree that owns itself?” Harry asked on their last ride back, he looked surprisingly chirpy, still, even after working outside all day.

“Eventually, yeah, but this way, we’re helping Mother Nature along.”

Harry smirked. “Why? She seems to do the work on her own just fine. That woman doesn’t need no man.”

Patiently, Louis offered the explanation, exhaustion starting to seep into his bones. “If you help, you give the land a chance to heal more quickly.”

The silence stretched for a grand total of twenty eight seconds (a record for Harry, Louis could attest to that) until Harry patted him gently on the arm.

“Hey, I get it, yeah? Everyone needs a little help sometimes. To grow, to heal.”

Louis’ breathing hitched on its own accord, his eyes went wide as the moment grew charged with _something._  Something unsaid, that Louis felt he was expected to read between invisible lines.

Louis steered the conversation back to less dangerous territory immediately. “Did Niall tell you, this land has been in the Sheeran’s family since the 19th century, all thirteen hectares of it?”

Harry whistled quietly, visibly impressed, and Louis felt the low vibration of pride pooling in his belly.

Niall probably hadn’t told Harry anything about it. In all fairness Niall was barely interested in his family history, whereas Louis adored listening to Teddy’s and Niall’s parents telling the tales of their ancestors.

“Do they live nearby?” Harry asked, “I mean, the Sheerans, do they still live around here?”

“Errr, not anymore, no. A hurricane partially destroyed their house a few years ago, so they moved, they were getting old, they wanted to live closer to the city when my father-in-law retired. He worked with me until then.”

Harry nodded in understanding.

“It’s not that far, if you want to see it?”  Louis’ voice was quieter, less sure.

Harry’s eyes met his own, soft around the edges. They were the kind of green that pushed its way through gritty snow in the pit of winter to remind you that spring was coming. It was a distracting green, in Louis’ opinion.

“I would love to.”

They reached the remnants of John and Imogen’s home in just a few minutes. It was nothing more than a glorified frame with its crumbling walls, sagged roof and gaping windows. Looking at the ruins, Louis could still hear children’s laughter carried by the wind as well as Imogen’s caring call asking them if they were hungry. If he waited long enough, he’d get carried away by his memories and see the ghosts of Niall, Teddy, and himself playing in the garden.

Suddenly defensive of the place, he kept casting sideway glances at Harry, whose eyes were darting everywhere in awe and interest, almost as if he was invited to see an archeological site. It made Louis crack a smile. At least Harry wasn’t impervious to the significance such a place would hold.

When Louis looked away, his gaze fell upon the rusty fence around the perimeter of the garden.

“This is where I met them for the first time, I was eight.” Louis pointed, the corners of his lips quirking up at the memory. “I was exploring and I scraped my knee right there. Cried so hard Imogen came running. She thought I was one of her boys.”

“Louis Tomlinson. Were you — No? that can’t be — Were you _trespassing_?” Harry cocked his hip and lifted an eyebrow and Louis jaw fell open and slack.

“I— er,” Louis said, rather dumbly. It wasn’t often that his own words were used against him successfully.

Harry burst out in a laughter that softened into a sigh. “Relax, I’m joking. I think it’s a wonderful story.” He hip bumped Louis who apparently needed that push to find his voice again.

“Hey, at least I wasn’t camping in their backyard unauthorized.” As far as comebacks went, this was a weak one and Louis knew it. He was grateful Harry let it slide.

Louis went to bed that night feeling exhausted down to his bones and with his voice shot to hell. He hadn’t talked that much in years.

 

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still hydrated? If not, put the fic down and drink a tall glass of water, because things are about to get heated my dudes.


	7. Chapter 7

“Crawl inside this body. Find me where I’m most ruined. Love me there.“

— Rune Lazuli

  

As November knocked at their door, deliveries finally, _finally_ , came to a halt. Louis was happy about the numbers, he had a great season all things considered, sales even went up 5%. He could do better with hired help but he didn’t like the idea of spending his days with a stranger, and ever since his father-in-law had retired, Louis worked alone and it was just as well.

He might consider it come next spring though. Maybe, _just maybe_ , it wouldn't be so terrible. If he could live with Harry Styles of all people — a thing he would have never believed he would consider, let alone _do_ a mere two months ago — he could certainly find a fellow lumberjack and, well — tolerate _them._

If he had help he could expand his clientele, branch out further than the senior citizens that he usually targeted, he could even possibly take some _time off._

Even though he was passionate about his job, maybe he didn’t have to work himself to the bone.

 _Oh if Niall could hear his thoughts right now,_ Louis quietly chuckled, sinking deeper into the mattress.

He was refusing to actually open his eyes for at least another ten minutes. Just because his mind was already in gear didn’t mean his body was ready to be, his limbs still felt pleasantly heavy from slumber and he didn’t have anywhere to be in the foreseeable future. It was so rare for him.

Today was his first day off and he’d slept — he threw a glance at his alarm clock— a full 10 hours. That hadn’t happened in months.

He still had things to do here and there, and of course Jasper to take care of, but most of his work was done now.

Lazily, he got up, spent half the morning in pyjama bottoms eating cereal directly out of the box watching old cartoons on his even older TV. He was allowed, he reasoned, he was alone because it was Friday and Harry was working.

Then again, Harry would probably just encourage him to loosen up anyway.

As the living room clock struck noon, Louis’ eyes fell on the neon pink promotional flyer lying on the table with a post-it on it.

**_There’s leftover quiche in the fridge for lunch and a brownie. Ps: Axe throwing contest tonight, don’t forget. Niall says it counts as game night  :) Meet you there. xx H._ **

It was so infuriatingly domestic and manipulative. Louis stifled a laugh.

The irony of him being force-invited to throw axes on his first day off in eight months wasn’t lost on him.

He still intended to go, always had. Plus he really looked forward to a night out. He would put on his most comfortable clothes, just so he had the freedom to move easily — and also to show off his axe throwing skills to his less gifted friends.

What? Louis was a competitive asshole, that was hardly news.

 

  

 

The place was already packed when Louis arrived at “Kick Axe”, the venue situated in Edmundston that Harry had booked for the evening and that had opened its doors a few months prior. Axe throwing just so happened to be this generation’s darts and pool (Louis couldn’t blame them, there was no better feeling than a thick, hardwood handle between your fingertips).

Coming here was a first for Louis, despite being invited regularly by his friends (he _truly_ was overworking himself, he thought once again). It had everything a commercial chain would display, from the tacky decorations (including deer heads on the walls) to the checkered tablecloths, with plaid literally _everywhere_. Still, it looked cosy and well lit (always a plus when sharp objects were being thrown). The high school’s seniors, obviously having added their touch with streamers and signs boasting their winter formal, could be spotted a mile away scattered among friends and family; they were all wearing a “Team Styles” shirt with big block letters. It was cute how much they all obviously had adopted Harry as their own.

As Louis paid the tournament’s entry fee to Casey, who was in charge of the cashbox by the door, he scanned the crowd. He could recognize some familiar faces from the winter formal committee as well as some of his clients with their teenagers, but no signs of Niall, Liam, Zayn, or Harry for that matter, so he made his way to the bar and ordered himself a beer.

And then Harry came into view and Louis almost dropped his drink.

“Hello, heh,” Harry said into the microphone, immediately followed by acoustic feedback, “ouch, sorry.”

He was precariously stood on a stool across the room, every pair of eyes turned to him at once and one thing Louis was sure of, is that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was holding the mic. He was just charismatic, his presence simply unignorable. A beacon of light in the night so every ship could find its shore.  

And his clothes.

Harry, who was once missing the mark completely, almost like he was wearing a costume that did not quite suit him, was now wearing blue plaid over a thin white cotton t-shirt that made his shoulders look broader and his pectoral muscles more prominent, paired with slim fit Levi’s 501 that hugged his thighs and slim waist—  like some kind of wet dream on legs.

Louis was actually on fire on the inside.        

The mob of teenagers surrounding him and cooing his name in adoration didn’t seem to disagree.

“As some of you may know, I’m principal Harry Styles, thank you for coming tonight, to raise some money so the kids would have their winter formal back!”

People cheered, and Harry’s infamous dimple made a noticeable _infuriating_ appearance. Someone, somewhere, may have fainted. Louis’ tongue swam in saliva. Everything was perfectly peachy.

“Don’t forget to check in with Casey — Miss Russell — if you want to participate in the tournament and please, help yourself to the bar! Don’t forget to designate a driver, it’s supposed to snow tonight.”

As Harry was about to lose his balance climbing down from the stool, Niall was immediately there to steady him and amidst the fog of sexiness, Louis recognized the jumbly, trippy mess that he so often saw at home and it was a little bit hard to reconcile everything: this man — this cocky, self assured man —  the rockstar among the students, a true friend to Louis’ friends, a roommate, an incredible cook, Louis wondered how he got so hung up on these little glimpses of awkwardness when everything else in him was so much more prominent at first glance.

Louis couldn’t stop watching him and what he thought was once odd, felt like something else. Like Harry sipping on a stupid straw, oversized tongue darting out everytime it slipped off of his grip, talking to everyone, laughing like he’d always been there. Thick curls bouncing like a soft mane around his carefree face.    

His stupid face.       

Louis’ foggy brain didn’t compute that Harry was pushing his way through the crowd to join him until he was actually there.

“You came.” Harry looked pleased to see him, nudging him with his behind and Louis couldn’t answer if he tried, he was still a bit starstruck. Louis’ shirt clung to his back like a second skin.

“Beer?” Harry asked, already hailing for the waiter.

It took three sips for Louis’ tongue to finally cooperate and unglue itself from the roof of his mouth. And his voice sounded too hoarse to his own ears when he used it to say his thanks.

“Did you sign up?”

“‘Course.”

Harry’s dimple replied, “So did I.”

“Oh really?” Louis snarked (a miracle in itself in his state), “would never have guessed with all the “Team Styles” shirts.

[ Harry shrugged ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/1c8ff8759a37d76439d9396c5aa7e71f/tumblr_pelo6rQKia1r610nn_540.gif) in a _what can I do_ way but he smirked too, he was pleased.

Louis felt strong enough to tease him now, some of his composure having finally returned (thank fuck). “It’ll be a pleasure to kick your ass. Try not to hurt yourself. I would hate for you to have anything other than your ego bruised tonight.”

“You talk some big talk Mister Lumberjack, but I’m Axe-cellent at this game, In fact, I’m an Axpert.”

Louis matched Harry smirk for smirk.

He twirled his finger in the direction of one of the ten lanes that displayed targets, just as the contestants were invited to start.

“Go ahead then, show us what you’ve got.”

It was mistake, it was so obviously a mistake because with Harry leading the way, then Louis had a clear view of Harry’s ass in those damn slim fit Levi’s 501 blue jeans and his brain short circuited for a hot minute.

“Come on! Get your axe over here!” Harry threw goodnaturedly over his shoulder, when he noticed Louis wasn’t at his heels. There was a twinkle in his eye, so Louis wondered if Harry knew how affected Louis felt. He tried to act as cool as possible though, as he broke the crowd to catch up.

There were at least twenty contestants, most of whom Louis knew. As time went by, Louis examined the competition, trying to assess who would be a threat and who wouldn’t be, making quick calculations in his head.

Zayn was shit at the game so he was eliminated on the first round and then went to the bar to drown his sorrows. Liam was better, being a PE teacher incontestably helped with eye-hand coordination but his posture was all wrong and he paid the price on the second round. Niall reached an honorable semi final (as a lumberjack’s son, Louis would have expected no less from him, the Sheeran family name was on the line as he reminded Niall several times).

And Harry.

Harry was another story altogether, and Louis spent an inordinate amount of time observing him, his technique (and maybe his outfit, a tiny wee bit) instead of sizing up the other players.

The way [ he preened ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/e6cf532562efbbd923fdb779f3450b2a/tumblr_oywqae5VYh1sr8ofxo6_540.gif) under the attention of the crowd, like a flower in the sun. The way he [ concentrated on the target ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/d6f5da77e55d2bfceec78b2b72e17519/tumblr_oywqae5VYh1sr8ofxo3_540.gif) for a full minute before throwing, strong jaw ticking and a small crease formed between his brows. The way he closed his eyes for a millisecond just before releasing the wood handle. The size of his smile when he [ hit the bullseye ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/1f09f6f8c74297928c53977c5a3bf92b/tumblr_oywqae5VYh1sr8ofxo5_540.gif) every fucking time.

Oh Harry hadn’t lied, he was good. Really good. Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised Louis as much as it did.

Of course, he was good with his hands, the series of carved wooden animals adorning Winnie and Thomas’ house was indication enough. It had become Harry’s new thing, a way to pass the time at night, carving art, branding his little “HS” signature in the wood Louis generously gave Harry (it was destined to be splintered but Harry didn’t need to know that.)

Nowadays, Harry was more often found in the barn than in the house, when he wasn’t visiting Winnie. (For some reason, Louis had decided that the barn of all places would be a good place to heat up a bit earlier than usual this year. For Jasper. Of course. Heh.)

It gave Louis some of the peace of mind he craved. It was a coincidence that Louis started to find the house a bit quiet.

Soon enough, Louis and Harry were the last contestants. The final round was upon them and the crowd was wild by now, chanting Harry’s or Louis’ name, as the staff prepared everything in two adjoining lanes to maximize the tension.

As Harry was about to throw his next hatchet, strong hands clasped around the handle above his head, a startling thought passed through Louis’ head.

_What else could Harry do with those hands?_

Louis’ cock twitched in his pants and the surprise, the shock of it made Louis completely miss the mark, throwing the axe on the wall beside it. He also effectively pulled a muscle in his shoulder.

“Shit.” He mumbled as the crowd booed. At least the pain made his wandering mind stop. He thumbed at the sensitive muscle, assessing the damage, while picking up another hatchet.

He threw through the pain, and the blade sliced through the air, missing the bullseye by a thread.

As he went to pick up the next axe, he caught Harry’s worried look from the corner of his eye, and it unfurled something funny in his gut.

When Harry won, the entirety of the Senior class went wild and Louis couldn’t feel bad about it if he tried.

 

  

 

Six beers didn’t numb anything, so Louis downed another, he needed it to calm his nerves as his body still tingled with something strange.

And the room was too hot. With growing discomfort, Louis noticed the beads of sweat running down the side of his neck with each passing second. He kept rolling his shoulders to ease the pain, but also to rid himself from the tension there and everywhere else in his body — his fingertips, his lips, under his skin — tension that he hadn’t experienced in forever.

It started snowing the minute the tournament ended and Harry, who looked like he’d never seen snow in his entire life, went racing outside like he was walking into Disneyland for the first time (no wonder he wanted a snow cannon so badly).

Louis followed him, mainly because he needed fresh air anyway.

Snow was falling like confetti, and Harry stuck out his tongue as far as it would go, the flakes melting at the contact, as did Louis’ self control at the view.

Hoping the biting wind would help, Louis hadn’t put his jacket on and he succumbed to the urge to pull at his shirt away from his body a little bit, to let some air in beneath the cotton.

He cleared his throat.

“Do you mind driving? I think I had one too many to take the wheel in this weather.” The snow wasn’t heavy enough to cover the ground yet, but it was only a matter of minutes. “We’ll get your car tomorrow, I don’t want you to drive that thing in the snow anyway.” The worried words slipped out of Louis’ mouth but Harry didn’t miss them, closing his mouth and raising his eyebrows, surprise clear on his face as he kept studying Louis.

“Sure.”

Louis rolled his stiff and tender shoulder again, letting the cold envelop him.

“You’re still hurting?” Harry asked carefully.

Louis winced. _Yes_. “No.”

“’Kay.”

“A little.” Louis finally conceded. The little admission felt big between them, like conceding territory when you’ve lost a battle.

Harry gave him a timid smile, but it reached his wide, skittish eyes.

As he inhaled, obviously about to say something in return, Liam burst out, tipsy and giggly, oblivious that he was interrupting. “We’re hitting that new club that opened in Moncton next, are you coming with?”

The idea of being stuck in another closed up space had Louis’ skin prickle. “I’m going to head home.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Liam said drily around a snort, like it was inconceivable Louis would even consider it. Liam was right, but it stung nonetheless, the thought of going out less dreary today than it was yesterday.

“Go ahead Harry if you want, I’ll find a ride home.” Louis punctuated his proposition with another roll of his shoulder.

Harry seemed conflicted, with his bottom lip caught between his thumb and forefinger. Louis wasn’t sure, he was stuck watching how the snowflakes hung in Harry’s hair.

“Errr, you know what Liam, go ahead and have some fun. I’m beat anyway.” Harry finally said. “I’m just going to check if Casey doesn’t need any help with the cashbox.”

A few minutes later, Harry wordlessly lead them to the truck, snow crunching under his feet and yep, he was still wearing those damn jeans, and yep the view still made Louis’ ears feel hot.

 _When on earth did Harry Styles turn that hot?_ He thought, all the way to the house.

  
  

 

Once they were safely back home, Louis was about to retreat towards his room (not _hide and jerk off or anything like that_ ) when a warm hand closed in on his shoulder from behind.

“Hey wait, let me take a look at your shoulder, heh?”

“That won’t be necess—”

And then Harry’s thumb pressed just right where it should for the pain to subside a tiny bit and Louis just let out a curse wrapped up in a moan and let his head hang forward.

 _Let yourself have this,_ Louis thought, _just this._

Louis grunted.

Buoyed up, Harry put his other hand on Louis’ aching back and then he just started to massage his spasming muscles, nudging Louis towards the couch and Louis let himself be guided, let Harry pull at his arms and manhandle Louis where he wanted him.

“Sit.”

Louis did, still and stiff and again, allowed Harry to put his hands on him. Harry’s warm, enormous hands on him. Louis just closed his eyes, and gave himself the right to be submerged by the feeling —  his body’s natural reaction.

_Just for a minute, just for now._

Louis would love to blame the booze for this, but he couldn’t even be arsed to lie to himself in the moment, making sure Harry didn’t lose control of Louis’ truck in the snow on the drive home had sobered him up.

“Take your shirt off.”

Harry kept his orders short and simple, his tone quiet and private for once like he knew it would spook Louis if he talked like he usually did.

The silence was thick around them and all Louis could hear was his own laboured breathing and all he could see were his knees shaking and all he could feel was Harry towering slightly over him, his breathing fanning over the side of Louis’ neck.

His head felt foggy as he obeyed and got naked from the waist up. He shivered because the room was cold.

Harry’s fingers worked his back carefully, relentlessly until gradually he started to feel the tension leave his muscles, felt his body filling up with something else, something both foreign and familiar.

He didn’t notice he was hard until Harry said something.

“How long has it been?" Harry asked hoarsely. He was close enough to brush his lips along Louis' ear and actually _see_ Louis tenting his trousers over his shoulder.

It was unclear if Harry meant ‘touched’ or ‘had sex last’ but the same answer applied anyway.

"Four years." Louis choked out. He wasn’t able to list the months, the days or the hours but he once could.

"Ever since— "

"Yeah."

There was a pause where no one dared to even breathe.

"Do you—” Harry cleared his throat, “do want to change that?"

Louis gave himself a second — not to think, no not that, if he let his mind wander, he would start to feel guilt and shame would melt into the want and the desire and the lust — he needed time to gather himself, get his heart rate under control at the very least.

He turned around.

His eyes met Harry’s, they were shining with something resembling trepidation mixed with desire.  

Ultimately it was Harry who made the first move, slow and calculating and in that moment Louis felt foolish he’d even entertained the idea that he would be the one to close the gap. Or that Harry would have waited for him to make a decision. Like everything else from the moment they met, it happened despite Louis’ immobility, whether he wanted it or not.

But he wanted it.

The first few kisses they shared were tender and exploring, cheeks growing warmer and lips moist and bitten red. After, it was breathing growing labored, fingers pulling at hair and hands against warm skin.

Then it turned into something else, something uglier, it was Louis noticing how different Harry’s kisses were from Teddy’s. How Harry’s hands were soft when Teddy’s used to be calloused. How velvety smooth Harry’s cheeks felt under Louis’ fingertips compared to Teddy’s scruffy ones.

It was Louis not knowing if he was pulling Harry into him or if he was pushing him away.

He wanted to cry, needed to scream, tear his eyeballs out, even as the heat pooled in his gut, even as Harry began to pepper kisses down his neck, tongue laving at his earlobe every minute or so.

Maybe it was happening a little too soon considering he hadn’t felt anything remotely close to sexual attraction in four years. He couldn’t even remember when he had last touched himself.

It was confusing, the way his body recalled what desire was while his brain hadn’t caught up yet.

On instinct, Louis ripped Harry’s fingers from the side of his face, they suddenly burned, like Harry was poking at a fresh wound.

“Do you want to stop?” Harry said, but Louis had trouble concentrating to form actual words in reply, too overwhelmed, his thinking scrambled and emotions all over the place.

Louis shook his head no. Even though _he knew_ he should stop.

His mind was a battlefield. His heart, a clearing, an immense stretch of butchered forest.

_Go away. Stay. Leave me alone. Never let me go._

Finally, reluctantly, he pushed Harry, with as much force as he could muster (which was not much, all fight seemed to have left him).

Confusion furrowed Harry’s brows, and Louis noticed he was panting, hands back on his body, roaming over Louis’ back in silent reassurance.

“I can’t.” Louis said, brokenly, as if it would explain his tug-of-war.

Harry sighed as he drew his hands back to himself, shaking his head in frustration, clenching and unclenching his fists alongside his thighs.

“I can’t— ” Louis said again, helplessly this time. How could he make Harry possibly understand that his heart was too shattered, turned cold because it was unused for too long? How could he explain that even wanting it felt like cheating?

“What do you need? What do you want?” Harry pressed, and Louis couldn’t answer, his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, his throat as dry as sand, he couldn't talk even if he managed to dislodge the lump in his throat. He simply couldn’t.

But he wanted Harry, so much in fact that it terrified him.

Harry’s shirt was askew, and his hair was standing in every direction showing where Louis’ hands had been, but his eyes were as clear as the river Louis loved to splash in when he was growing up, and the more Louis stared at him, the more hopeful Harry looked, a small smile growing, growing, growing on his lovely face.

So Louis kissed Harry with everything he had, bruisingly, until his breathing turned shallow and loud until his fingers started to twitch around Harry’s belt buckle.

“Don’t move.” Harry said, from the cloud of arousal they found themselves in the middle of, “I’m gonna get stuff.”

When Harry left, big fat erection visible through his jeans, Louis followed the movement with hungry eyes. He disappeared down the hall just as Louis’ gaze fell on Teddy’s picture, the one he took the day they moved into the house, toothy smile amidst his red scruffy face.

 _Shit._ What the fuck was he doing?

In a haste, he put his shirt back on, his fingers trembling around the buttons. He grabbed a warm jacket and the axe by the door. He ran as far as his feet would carry him in the snow.

He didn’t look back.

  
  

 

Harry tossed and turned in his bed, the buzzing of the light bulb of the barn’s overhang  just outside his window keeping him company, the light flickering because Harry didn’t wire it properly the day before.  

He tried to ride out his left over energy by watching the snow fall through the window, waiting for Louis to come home. He hadn’t been surprised to come back to an empty living room. Somehow he’d known that Louis would be gone if he was left alone to his thoughts.

Harry was just about to drift off to sleep when he heard the familiar drag of Louis’ feet on the hallway’s wooden floor. He opened his eyes instinctively, waiting for the footsteps to fade into the bathroom, but the soft, steady gait got closer until it stopped just outside the door, Harry’s heart did just the same.

He sat up, eyes wide and heart jolted back to life like it had just been shocked by a defibrillator.

 _Dadum dadum dadum_.

Harry didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t dare to speak either, but his entire body was screaming Louis’ name.

After a charged, electric minute, the door finally opened. _He didn’t even knock_ , Harry thought, a hopeful smile twitching at his lips.

In the intermittent bursts of artificial light, Louis stood there, a small shadow in the night.

He was naked. He was naked and his breathing was laboured, something unmissable in the deafening silence.

“I thought you didn’t want—” The choked words were blurted out of Harry’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

Even as Louis shook his head _no_ , a pained crease formed between his brows, his eyes getting stormy in the flickering light.

Louis took a step forward, then another, that turned into quick strides until he finally reached the bed and slipped between the sheets wordlessly.

It was a shock to Harry’s system, when Louis’ cold body came into contact with his own, still warmed by lazy slumber under a fluffy sleepworn duvet.

Harry fought the urge to wrap Louis in his arms, unsure of what Louis wanted him to do.

Louis seemed busy trying to get his breathing under control beside him, so Harry left him be, laid on his side, and stiff as a statue, watching Louis’ pale chest move up and down.

“What do you want?” Harry softly echoed his earlier question, like he was picking up where they’d left off an hour earlier. It was a simple question, really. Harry was not asking where they stood or what them having sex would mean. He even managed to keep his words uncharged, he just wanted to know what Louis wanted in this moment in time.

Louis turned his head and his piercing blue eyes betrayed nothing, even when his trembling lower lip told another story altogether. His hand, once resting delicately on his chest now turned into a loose fist over the large tattoos he sported on his chest.

He shook his head again, facing the ceiling, a muffled choke coming out of the back of his throat. Then he turned and faced Harry fully, two of his fingers finding Harry’s dry lips.

“Don’t talk. _Please_. Don’t talk.”

Then all trace of softness was gone, Louis stuffing four of his fingers in Harry’s mouth at once so suddenly Harry almost choked on them, like Louis wanted to make sure he was not going to utter another word.

Harry recovered quickly though, jaw going slack and tongue sliding between Louis’ joined fingers, coaxing them open and rendering them slippery and wet. Louis’ eyes widened before turning dark and clouded, like he was surprised, like he didn’t mean it to be dirty, not really, not at first.

Harry wanted it dirty. No, he wanted it in any way Louis wanted it.

He didn’t break eye contact when he started working his tongue under Louis’ calloused knuckles, sucking on them until Louis’ breath stuttered. He moved closer, fingers pressing deeper inside Harry’s hot mouth and that when Harry felt it, Louis’ nakedness digging into his bare thigh. As Harry moaned, around a mouthful of fingers, Louis molded his entire body into Harry’s, who felt completely electrified because it.

Louis’ fingers were gone only to be replaced by his mouth and tongue, hot and needy and exploring. He slid on top of Harry, arms tight around his neck, clingy like never before and Harry’s hauled him up closer, arms folding around his delicate waist.

Their kiss was red hot and hungry, with no give, and no gentleness. It was strong, and desperately demanding —  the kind of kiss that took what it wanted and still left you wanting. It might have been the best kiss of Harry's life —  sloppy and wet. Bold. Dangerous.

Their cocks began to rub together softly, every drag sending spark after luscious spark coursing through Harry's already thrumming body, and he spared a moment to thank the stars he slept naked, no matter how cold it was outside. It was already humid anyway, from their combined sweat, but Harry couldn't care less, it felt so good, he could absolutely come like this, like a teenager, just from a little frottage. In fact, he contemplated telling Louis as much, Louis who now had his head buried in Harry’s neck.

“Lou, I— ”

When Louis choked out a sob, Harry could unmistakably feel the newfound wetness in his neck. Louis was crying but Harry couldn’t say anything about it, couldn’t do anything because Louis was stuffing his fingers in Harry’s mouth, effectively shutting him up, once again.

Harry’s throat was choking up with all the things he wanted to say. Words ready to bubble out of him, right here, right now, but he wasn’t allowed to.

It seemed weird to Harry because not talking made things so much more intimate, if they didn’t talk he could listen in the silences. When they didn’t talk, he could hear everything Louis couldn’t say out loud.

Gently, he removed Louis’ fingers from his mouth, hips slowing down, despite Louis’ disapproving whines, and tried to force Louis to make eye contact, gathering as much of him as Harry could in his arms, a hand framing Louis’ face. He was resisting, fighting against Harry’s grip, little frustrated sounds coming out of him.

He looked like a bird trying to get out of a cage.

Louis’ eyes fell shut and his jaw clenched so much it morphed into a grimace, like he was holding in a scream. Harry barely had time to trap Louis’ wrists in his hands, to keep him from banging his fists against Harry’s collarbones, but Louis was too strong, the bastard. Harry shifted them so Louis was now laying underneath him, Harry using his upper body strength to his advantage and successfully trapping Louis there, as Louis looked everywhere but at him, head jerking upward.

“It’s okay to want me.” Harry whispered like somehow verbalizing it would help Louis accept what he was feeling.

Tears rolled from the corner of Louis’ closed eyelids, sobs so violent he sounded like he was choking. The words made Louis try to shove Harry off of him but it was useless especially since Harry was not done, he had more, so much more to say, if only Louis would let him.

He had planned to let his hands do the talking at first, but now, he felt like he needed the words out of him as much as Louis needed to hear them.

Trapping Louis’ fists against his chest, with Louis’ frame strained under Harry’s body, Harry leaned in, kissing Louis’ brow as gently as he could manage with someone trying to push him off.

“You hate that you want me, and that’s okay too.”

Finally, like a beast out of a trap, Louis managed to break out of Harry’s hold — only because Harry let him. They stared at each other, calculating and unblinking for a minute like two adversaires at the opposite side of a boxing ring.

And then Louis kissed him again, blindly trying to reach for lube before putting it in Harry’s hand.

“I’m scared I don’t remember how to have sex.” Louis admitted, voice wavering and small.

What Harry heard was that Louis was scared he didn’t remember how to love.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t fucking be gentle! Don’t you fucking dare.”

To Harry, it was, however, evident just how much Louis needed someone to be gentle with him, to take care of him, to soothe him. Harry wanted to take his time with Louis, open him up for a bit, help him relax so the tension in his shoulders would ease up and down his whole body. He wanted Louis to let go and allow himself to be soft and clingy, the curses replaced with gentle moans and desperate gasps.

Before Harry could try any of that, Louis eeled on top of him, without uttering a word, effectively mounting him.

Seated in Harry’s lap, Louis hesitated, eyes going from the condom and lube bottle laying on the bed to Harry’s face and Harry got it, got that it was doubtful Louis used a condom in the last ten years so he took care of it. Sliding the rubber down his own cock, Harry hummed, the delicious friction only an inkling of what was to come.

Harry wasn’t going to be rough, no matter how much Louis complained about it so he coated himself in lube, liberally, much more than he would normally use.

Then Louis’ fingers found Harry’s cock, his small dainty hand wrapped around the shaft, making it look enormous in comparison. His fist moved up and down Harry’s dick deliciously slow, and Louis’ eyes followed every twitch and movement with brows drawn together and front teeth sunk into his bottom lip, like he was studying and cataloguing every reaction of Harry’s cock.

Soon, it became impossible for Harry to keep his hands to himself anymore, so he grabbed two handfuls of Louis’ ass and squeezed just to remind Louis that he was here, to anchor him back in the moment with him.

Louis’ hand stopped as his head snapped up, caught out, or surprised by the touch, Harry couldn’t say.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Harry murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips, his head cocked to the side.

Louis looked away but not fast enough to hide his pleased smile.

“Your cock is huge.” Louis remarked. His voice sounded scratchy but curious, a slight dampness from the crying still clinging to it. It was unclear in the chaotic flicker of the light, but it looked like Louis might be ready to crack a real smile. “I like it.”

Harry’s cock twitched at the words and Harry’s dumb grin started to grow.

“It likes you too.”

At that, Louis rolled his eyes and Harry wished he could kiss the rising color of his collarbones as he thumbed at the freckles there instead.

Louis sucked in a quick breath before taking a hold of Harry’s dick and positioning it at his entrance, back to being serious and focused. Slowly he pushed down, thighs trembling and hands pushing at Harry’s tummy for support.

Louis sunk down way too quickly for it not to hurt —  he was so fucking tight — but Harry kept his mouth shut, let Louis set down his own rhythm, let Louis use him, knowing Louis needed to have some semblance of control over the situation and it took everything — absolutely _everything_ in Harry not to thrust his hips up, not to circle Louis’ waist and haul him up and down with the movement.

Louis fucked himself on Harry’s cock for long minutes in relative silence if not for the occasional gasp escaping his lips. His eyes fell shut and his movements slowed every time Harry rubbed against his spot.

Louis’ orgasm hit him just as dawn lined the horizon in amber yellow over snowy landscape, successfully overriding the flickering of the outside light from the barn, and giving Harry a chance to see his own belly painted in Louis’ intricate white patterns, see the sweat glistening over Louis’ golden skin, see the dampness under Louis’ eyes.

Louis didn’t let him thumb at the tears, instead he clenched, he moved, he bobbed up and down relentlessly, silently, until all Harry could focus on was his release, burning, burning, burning him from the inside out and all he could see was white.

Eventually, Harry fell asleep, with Louis wrapped up in his arms, as the new day cast its soft warming rays turning the sky into pure gold.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kick Axe is actually a real place where you can throw axes for fun, can you believe? 
> 
> I wish I could say I was sorry for all the bad puns in the fic but that would be a lie.


	8. Chapter 8

"I’m scared as hell to want you. But here I am, wanting you anyway."

— Crash Into Me part 2, Grey’s Anatomy 

 

When Louis woke up, buried in a mess of sheets, with Harry curled up against the side of his body and the bright light of the midday sun burning at his eyelids, Louis’ first instinct was to flee —  as far away and as quickly as possible.

Out the window, the sky was peppered in white, as the snow had resumed falling in tiny, irregular flakes upon Abateemat sometime during the night.

The view would be lovely if Louis weren’t in a state of mild panic, heart hammering against his ribs and bile rising in his mouth.

Carefully, he managed to untangle himself from the web of limbs sprawled over his stomach without waking Harry, knowing full well that talking to him before Louis even had his morning coffee was the last thing _anyone_ needed.

Ignoring the dull ache in his butt, he made a beeline to the kitchen.

As he waited for the coffee to brew, sleep still tugging at his limbs, he let his gaze wander — it was easier than trying to process the previous night, and it suddenly struck Louis that Harry Styles was fucking _everywhere_.

In his kitchen, with all the marked tupperware boxes lined up in his fridge, in his study where all his books had been rearranged by genre and alphabetical order, in his yard where the vegetable garden had been covered by a greenhouse for the winter, in his bathroom where scented candles were now a permanent fixture, in the living room where little carved figurines were scattered on every surface—

And now in the bed he used to share with his husband for the better part of a decade.

He used to call Harry the “invader” when he first moved in, but in hindsight it was more to show his annoyance than anything else. Now though, Louis couldn’t help but notice how insidiously Harry had settled into Louis’ house — into his life.

When he first woke up, Louis was met with Harry’s traces over the sheets, his smell lingering on the pillow, Harry’s watch on the nightstand on Teddy’s side. The view was as crippling as a hand closing around his throat, choking him, choking him, _choking him._

The thing was, Louis had tough skin, he had worked really hard at building big, wide, _bulletproof_ walls to protect himself, _with reason_. So how exactly Harry Styles had managed to get under his skin, in between his cracks, without Louis noticing no less, was beyond him.    

Yes, Harry was everywhere, maybe even a little bit in Louis’ shattered heart now. And Louis shouldn’t, couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ let that happen.

Louis’ breath stuttered when he heard Harry’s footsteps closing in on the kitchen. He busied his hands with breakfast, but forced himself to stay calm. He had control over this situation, he was okay, everything was fine, he knew what to do.

He felt a little bit of his resolve leave him at once when Harry appeared in the door frame, only wearing little, turquoise briefs and a worried frown. In broad daylight, his shoulders appeared broader, his abs even more defined, and the little soft flesh he had around his waist just begged to be poked at, and petted, and lick—

“Hey.” Harry said, awkwardly.

 _Hey gorgeous._ The words Harry had said tenderly ricocheted against the walls of Louis’ skull, making his neck feel warm, his chest even warmer.

As Harry approached, every inward breath Louis took brought in the fresh scent of pine and honey, and arousal unfurled low in his belly again.

_Shit. No. Not again._

Louis promised himself it was just a one time thing, in fact it had spun in endless loops and circles in his mind the night before like a mantra. _Just one time, just one time, just one time_.

Harry hesitated before taking a seat at the edge of his usual chair in the kitchen, folding his arms loosely over the table, expectant, a question evidently on the tip of his tongue. But he stayed mute.

_Just one time to get him out of your system._

At least that was what Louis had thought. Now looking into Harry’s wary, uncertain eyes, it was evident it hadn’t worked.

“So.” Louis began, after letting out a humourless nervous laugh.

For some reason he struggled knowing what to do with his hands, so he placed them square on the table, strategically staying up, while Harry sat, giving himself the illusion he still had some kind of hold on the volatile situation.

Harry glanced up at him with the defeated look of a man ready for the guillotine.

“I think we can both agree it was obviously a mistake. I mean. Obviously?” Louis said, words tailending as a question unintentionally.

_Obviously._

“Right.” Harry’s lips stretched into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. They were shrouded with sadness, and the forced expression made Louis’ heart feel heavy.

For a few moments Louis openly stared at him, almost certain Harry’s expression mirrored his.

Feeling like his heart just sank to the bottom of his socks, Louis cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. Right. I’m glad we settled this then. Perfect.”

Nothing felt perfect. Everything in his body was constricting at once. Everything hurt.

  
  

 

It took some time for them to find their footing around one another again. With Louis at home every day now that he was officially on holiday,  the morning routine changed into some kind of avoidance dance. It was the little things that changed, really, like somehow the earth was slightly off of its axis, even if it was still turning. Like Louis pretending to sleep in in the morning, even though his inner clock woke him up at 5:30 sharp every day by force of habit, just so that Harry could shower in peace and have breakfast, experience some kind of normalcy comparable to what he’d had when Louis used to work and leave the house at dawn.

Thankfully, Harry did his part too, like staying longer at Winnie’s or making his excuses to head to the barn to carve earlier than usual after dinner. Harry no longer singing in the shower since “the incident” happened was something Louis actively chose to ignore, like him skipping game night for the first time ever.

Despite the circumstances, steering clear of each other ended sooner than it might have, given that they lived in a part of the country that was more frozen dystopia than winter wonderland at this time of year.

When the snow started to really fall heavily, it became evident Louis couldn’t let Harry drive his Smart to work any longer; he refused to have another death on his conscience. That crippling thought alone trumped the awkwardness and stiffness. It trumped everything actually.

“Get in the truck.” Louis said one morning, startling Harry who had been trying to start his car for the past five minutes. Granted, Louis came out of nowhere, hiding in his room until then.

“It’s okay, Louis, I just need to run the engine for a bit for it to warm up.” Harry didn’t make eye contact, but Louis could still see a hint of sadness in his eyes, it had been lingering there since that night.

“Get in the truck.” Louis said more pointedly.

Harry seemed to weigh in his options, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

The thermostat had surprisingly dropped 10 degrees overnight and it was now cold enough for the snow to hold for good. Winter was here.

“I still have to get back home after school. The bus doesn’t come near here, I checked. The closest is five kilometers away.”

“I’ll pick you up. I have business in town anyway.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, Louis meant to go buy a new shirt or two. His had seen better days. “I’ll pick up some chains for your tires while I’m at it, I’ll put them on this afternoon.”

Louis had no intention of doing that. Now that the decision was made, that car wouldn’t move until Louis decided it would; he would make sure of that. He had other plans for that yogurt pot anyway.

Harry still didn’t make a move, thumbing at his bottom lip.

“Okay. What about after?”

“What _about_ after?”

“I need to go to Winnie’s,” Harry explained, finally making eye contact. Louis noticed how tired he looked. “I promised her we’d finish the Robert Frost poem collection today, it’s her favorite.”

Louis smiled despite himself. He couldn’t help but be endeared by the man in front of him, a single man in his prime, who should be burning the candle at both ends but who chose, instead, to spend his free time keeping an elderly woman company. Not only did Harry not see it as a chore, he was absolutely smitten with her, telling Louis once that she reminded him of his own grandmother and home.

“We’ll visit her together then,” Louis concluded, opening the door wider for Harry to get out of his car. “Now get in the truck.”

"You know, one day you're going to ask me to get in the truck and I'm going to tell you no."   

A small smile tugged at Harry’s mouth, and it was the first genuine smile Louis had seen in days. It felt important somehow, like the cosmic balance being restored, being the one to put a smile back on Harry’s face when he had been the one to take it away in the first place.

"That day is not today."                        

Harry’s smile grew as Louis put the key in the ignition.    

  
  

 

It became their new normal, Louis driving Harry to school and picking him up at the end of the day, even if sometimes Louis didn’t leave the house at all in between. He could have easily loaned Harry his truck, but he would rather drive Harry himself. On the days Harry wanted to visit Winnie, Louis didn’t automatically stay there, choosing to give them some privacy and often grabbing a drink with Thomas who appreciated the reprieve and change of scenery.

Louis was driving back from Susette’s, with Thomas in the passenger seat, when he first heard them. Sirens.

The sound grew louder and louder as Louis spotted the ambulance in the rearview mirror, ready to pass them on Route 78. As his stomach locked up tight and the color drained from his face, a sense of dread crept over him like an icy chill. It was something he hadn’t felt in four years.

“Hey Thomas, would you check my phone please, it’s in the glove compartment, I forgot it.”

Louis asked but somehow, he already knew.

It took a moment for Thomas to even find it, Louis often leaving the device behind or even forgetting about it completely for days. Too many times to count, that turned into Niall showing up at his door screaming at him stupid things like _“I was worried sick, asshole”_ or _“You check in, that’s what family does, fucking prick.”_

Now he felt stupid he hadn’t listened. He never listened.

Thomas fumbled with the phone, mumbling things about technology and needing to be employed at NASA to even be able to work these things.

“You have 7 missed calls,” Thomas finally said, and the way he said suggested he also understood something was wrong immediately, “from Harry.”

“Shit.” Louis cursed, speeding up, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Hurry,” is all Thomas said. There was nothing else to say.

 

  

 

When Louis and Thomas rushed inside the house, the paramedics were still working on Winnie. She was laid on the floor, the violence of the compressions applied to her ribcage a clashing contrast with the overall stillness of her body. She was pale. Her face, so deeply etched with lines of laughter and love, had now fallen with gravity, and Louis knew immediately that they were too late.

The shock of it felt like an out of body experience, as if Louis was watching the scene through the dirty window of an abandoned house lit from the inside, safe in its distance, but impossible to be unaffected by.

Thomas sank heavily to his knees beside his wife, like a fallen giant after a war fought for too long, letting out a primal sound no one could have ignored. And Winnie, a force of nature herself, had never appeared so fragile.

“Don’t leave me my love, you can’t leave just yet, we still have some time. It’s too soon, I’m not done loving you yet.” Thomas said, voice trembling and thick with grief.

Every word sliced through Louis with the force of a thousand knives as the view triggered memories buried deep down, a time where he was knelt on the ground himself, holding the lifeless body of his husband, bargaining with a God he no longer believed in.

As Louis couldn’t listen anymore, couldn’t handle bearing witness to their heart wrenching goodbye, his attention shifted — and fell on Harry.

He was a sobbing mess in the corner, curled onto himself on the floor, his body jerking with tremors as he tried to speak, obviously in shock. “I— I— tried— to to to—  call you and— and— you— She— just— I didn’t know what— “

Louis was in his space in a second, crouching before Harry’s knees. “Hey. Hey.”

He tried to say the words as soothingly as he could, despite the lump in his own throat. He couldn’t break, not right now, not when his people needed him the most.

He grabbed Harry’s arms, looped tightly around his own knees, forcing him up, even as Harry resisted, limbs stiff and jerky, so Louis could hold him close. Louis held tightly around Harry’s waist and Harry had no other choice than to collapse against him and let his head drop to the crook of Louis’ neck.

The act in itself, seemed to open the floodgates of Harry’s despair.

“I— I was in the kitchen, she was craving muffins.” Harry managed to blurt out in between sobs, “she was napping, I swear she was just sleeping— ”

Louis didn’t want to know what happened, it wouldn’t change the outcome. She was gone, one of his oldest friends was gone forever. There wouldn’t be any more reading by the fire, no more Sunday dinners where he was forced to eat his carrots, no more listening to her endless rants about the school system and why kids today had lost all sense of purpose.

Louis’ cheeks felt damp, and he didn’t know if it was because of Harry’s tears or because he’d started to cry too at some point, but Louis forced himself to focus on Harry. They were clinging to one another and Louis didn’t know anymore if Harry was holding on to him or if he was holding on to Harry.  

_Breathe. You did it once, you can do it again._

Harry’s breath came in ragged, shallow gasps until he had no more tears to cry and his body stilled in Louis’ arms.

They sat there, all three of them, flabbergasted, until the paramedics packed up and left slowly, quietly into the snowy night.

“I’m so sorry, Thomas.” Harry broke the thick silence, his voice was shot to hell, ”This is all my fault. I should have called sooner, maybe if I had— ”

“You listen to me, son,” Thomas interrupted, wiping his glasses with the corner of his shirt. His eyes were still damp, but they were clear and determined. “Winnie had a heart condition on top of her Alzheimer’s, there is _nothing_ you could have done. She went peacefully, in her sleep, she didn’t suffer. You, Harry, brought so much joy into this house for the brief period of time she knew you, and I’m so grateful for you.” As he spoke, Thomas’ voice grew thicker, verging on teary again.

Louis felt his heart swell, for some unfathomable reason.

Harry didn’t seem convinced, idly shaking his head no. He didn’t argue though.

  
  

 

When Harry took a personal day for the funeral, Casey didn’t even give him a hard time about it, which was proof enough that he must have looked like shit.

It was a nice service even if Harry tuned out during most of the sermon, empty words bouncing off of him like rain on concrete. Instead, he chose to study the people inside the church. It seemed that most of the town made it, despite the weather. The church was packed full, the overflow even spilling outside in the cold air waiting to pay their respects.

That, at least, was heartwarming.

Thomas had asked him and Louis to say a few words but Harry was utterly incapable of it and as much as it pained him to say no, he was sure that he would break down in front of everyone. He didn’t want that, didn’t want all the attention on him when this was about _her._ Her day of remembrance.

Now though, seeing Louis walking up the few steps to the lectern, looking completely forlorn and filled with grief, in a suit two sizes too big, Harry felt a pang of guilt and regret.

His initial thought had been that it was appropriate that her old friend, and favorite student said a few words for her. When he’d said no to speaking he didn’t think it would mean Louis would feel pressured to bite that bullet for the both of them.

He didn’t think that Louis might have not been capable of taking the stand either.

When Louis cleared his throat, every pair of eyes turned to him, the sound ricocheting on the high ceilings and back to the foyer.

Louis’ fingers were shaking as he opened the little black book Harry was familiar with. His heart had swelled as Louis shared the news with him that morning that he’d chosen to read a Robert Frost poem Winnie loved. It had a special meaning for her as it spoke of the inevitability of loss. She was referring to her memories of course.

It bore significance in another way now that she was going to her final resting place.

 _Nature’s first green is gold,_ __  
_Her hardest hue to hold._ __  
_Her early leaf’s a flower;_ __  
_But only so an hour._ __  
_Then leaf subsides to leaf._ __  
_So Eden sank to grief,_ __  
_So dawn goes down to day._  
Nothing gold can stay.

Louis’ voice was thin as he uttered the words, slowly and reverently, features drawn from lack of sleep and grief combined. Harry wanted nothing more than to hold him in that moment, as close and tight as possible, the same way Louis did with him the day Winnie died, Louis’ scent soothing him like a security blanket.

As Louis sat beside him again on the uncomfortable bench, breath ragged and wet, Harry held his hand. And Louis? Louis let him.

  
  

 

Things seemed _off_ in the house after Winnie’s death, routine still, but stiff and almost robotic in their quietness, and for Louis that was too reminiscent of the unease and despondency of days he would rather forget about.

Every morning Harry woke up at six, brushed his teeth, and showered in that order (decidedly not singing, much to Louis’ dismay), then had 2 coffees, and a frugal breakfast before Louis took him to work and back. Since Harry didn’t have Winnie to visit, Louis more often than not drove him straight home (although some days they visited Thomas), and Harry — restless, never stopping, hurricane Harry, stopped spending his nights in the barn, stopped cooking anything other than a quick omelette or pasta, stopped spending his nights planning the perfect formal.

Instead, he spent his evenings in his room, either reading, sleeping, or staring at the ceiling, Louis wasn’t sure, and all of it was done in almost constant silence, and that — that was new and it creeped the fuck out of Louis even though he got it. He got the urge to just shut down and wait for the worst of it to pass. In the wilderness, when you feel in immediate danger, your first reflex is to protect your abdomen, where your vital organs lay; Louis found grief comparable.

 _One day at a time_. _Tomorrow you’ll miss them less. Tomorrow you won’t feel like you have died too._

Sure, it was what Louis had been asking for for months now, but not like this, not like _this_.

Besides, he may have gotten used to Harry’s various noises and disturbances a little bit. At least he’d managed to feel less annoyed by it.

So this is what he found himself surrounded by — silence and maybe even boredom, when the boys showed up for game night. Louis had forgotten about it, time was an elastic concept when he wasn’t working.

“Loueh.” Niall greeted sternly, wrapping his arms around Louis in a hug, “how’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Louis dismissed uncomfortably, “I’ve seen worse you know?” He let the sad smile cover his face, he was allowed to with Niall.

Niall nodded briefly, but he looked a little surprised at the words.

“And Harry?” Niall was already looking around for him, a little puzzled frown settling between his brows, “Where is he? Harreeeh.” He shouted towards the staircase.

“He’s okay, he wants a little space right now, leave him be.” Louis scolded, feeling somehow protective all of a sudden.

“Harry?” Liam said, doubtful himself, ” _Harry Styles_ asked to be left alone?”

Louis started to feel his temper rise at that. “Not in so many words but he’s been like this all week and— ”

Zayn humorless laugh could be heard a kilometer away. “So you just assumed that the guy that had the wall between his office and his assistant’s taken down just — and I quote — to ‘improve the team’s synergies’, wanted to be left alone ?”

“Projecting much?” Niall said, not so kindly poking Louis in the ribs several times in a row.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, dumbass,” Niall gritted out, “It’s Harry we’re talking about, that man loathes solitude and never met a silence he didn’t need to fill.” He poked Louis again. “That’s _your_ thing.”

“I— ” Louis started and stopped himself immediately, pondering. All three of them were watching him expectantly like he was slow on the uptake and he would have been annoyed if he didn’t came to the conclusion that they were right.

“Huh. You might have a point.” In hindsight, it should have been obvious.

The guys didn’t argue when Louis sent them away for the night. Harry might not want to be alone, Louis still doubted he was up for Pictionary.

  
  

 

Once faced with Harry’s door, Louis needed a minute before knocking, a sudden flash of the last time he found himself in the same spot blazing through his mind.

Himself, naked and consumed equally by want and guilt. He didn’t want Harry to talk then, his thoughts already too crowded; he only wanted the static of his mind to quiet, wanted to be loved physically — bruisingly, so all he would feel was someone’s presence, so logical thought would be impossible.

Louis shook himself out of it. Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

He cleared his throat and knocked on the door. “Harry, come down, I made dinner.”

The door opened after a minute or so. Harry looked tired and sleep-soft in comfortable sweats and his Britney Spears t-shirt. As soon as he opened the door, Harry went straight back to bed, like his legs were too wobbly to stand on, like a sad, human version of Bambi on ice.

He lay on his side, eyes rimmed red and trained on the outside window, hugging a pillow like a shield with one arm, and stroking one of the little things he carved out for Winnie in the opposite hand.

“M not hungry, Lou. Just tired.”

Louis had no trouble believing him. Death, or shock, had the power of turning your stomach into rock and stripping you from enjoying any flavors; all you could taste was bile. So Louis went straight for plan B.

“Get up, I’m taking you somewhere.”

Harry turned around at that, fixing Louis with an open, curious glance for several beats, calculating.

“Alright.” He finally said.

“Put some warm clothes on, then.” Louis suggested, leaning on the door frame.

He didn’t think that through. He didn’t think Harry would just strip in front of him, not even batting an eyelash at his presence. As he leaned down to rummage through his suitcase, Louis was met with the view of his nice, round ass, clad in purple patterned briefs.

Granted it wasn’t anything Louis hadn’t seen before but it still made him inhale sharply and avert his gaze.

“This okay?” Harry asked, waving a pair of worn khakis and a fluffy black sweater with I Love New York printed on it, impervious to the temperature _and_ to Louis’ turmoil at seeing so much of Harry’s skin at once on display.

Louis wondered how Harry behaved in the summer if this was how he was when it was below 15°C outside.

 _But he won’t be here in the summer_ , he remembered with a pang in his gut.

“Perfect.” Louis said to the floor. “Err, beanie and work boots, too.”

“They’re downstairs with my coat.”

“Right.”

That was something Harry had bought for himself a while ago, Timberland boots, and it took Louis some time to get used to seeing Harry’s big shoes side by side with his own. Now, like a lot of other things, he didn’t notice them anymore.

Harry followed Louis obediently, like he often did, but it was still unlike him not to ask any questions about their destination. Louis didn’t offer an explanation though, Harry would know soon enough.

They put on their warm coats, beanies and gloves, ready to face the icy cold night.

“Now, grab an axe.” Louis shouted from the kitchen where he went looking for a flashlight.

“What?”

Louis appeared in the doorframe. “An axe,” Louis repeated a little softer at Harry’s trembling voice. “I’ll take one too.”

“Okay.”

The air was dry and chilling, as they walked to the spot Louis was leading them to, a thin layer of snow crunching under the soles of their shoes. The sky was clear tonight, the moon shining its rays enough for the forest to cast big, intimidating shadows at every one of their steps.

“Here.” Louis said, stopping in one of the places he’d scouted for next year, setting up the floodlight and putting down the gear he’d brought with him. “Go on and choose a tree.”

He was met with Harry’s bewilderment written all over his face, Louis may even have detected a hint of disappointment there. “You— you brought me here to fell a tree?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Harry said, but it didn’t ease his features. Still he began to walk around, inspecting every tree in his immediate vicinity following Louis’ instruction to avoid the saplings; until he finally chose one.

“Now the first thing you need to decide is which way you want your tree to go down. You don’t want it to fall towards another tree with large branches, the last thing you need to deal with is your tree stuck 4 meters in the air on another one.”

Harry nodded, looking up and inspecting the surroundings and the tree from all angles. “This way then?”

Louis smiled, pleased that Harry found the clear path for the tree all by himself. It wasn’t windy, so there was no need to bore Harry with the elements being a decision factor. “Yes. And then you find your escape route.”

“Escape route?”

“Yeah, before the tree falls, you need to know clearly where you’re going to move to, or else you could get hurt.”

“M’kay.”

Harry was a quick study — Louis noticed right away— so it didn’t take long before Harry was ready to cut.

“Okay, now, you need to create a notch by making a 45 degree chop. Then you do it on the other side until it makes a ‘V’”

Harry seemed hesitant, hands on his hips, looking at the tree like it was a giant, immovable mountain.

“You just need to swing your hips and put your weight behind it.”

“Like golf?” Harry asked, and the thing was—  it looked like Harry was seriously asking.

“Absolutely _not_ like golf.” Louis deadpanned; fluttering his eyelashes in disbelief (golf, honestly). “Here.” Louis summoned Harry closer, planting two square hands on Harry’s frame. “You relax those shoulders.”

“Mmmh.” Harry hummed, closing his eyes at the new touch. He began to tilt his head from one side of the other, Louis thumbing at the knots there for a second. Then, Louis’ fingertips skirted down Harry’s back to rest on his soft (still biteable) hips and show him the correct movement.

The moment felt weirdly intimate, as Harry leaned back into the embrace, not really looking like he’d done it on purpose even. His ass just _happened_ to find a comfortable place to rest against Louis’ groin.

_Un-fucking-believable._

Louis’ heart was hammering deep within his chest.

“You keep your spine locked up or you’ll hurt your back,” Louis instructed, albeit hoarsely, “and you swing your hips back and forth like this.”

Harry did as he was told, hips moving under Louis’ guiding hands until he felt ready to try it on his own.

Just to be on the safe side, Louis tied a rope around one of the thick branches, so he could control the way the tree was going to fall, if things went south for any reason, and the act seemed to reassure Harry. For Louis, It was only natural, that was exactly what Thomas did for his first time too.

“Now remember, you lift the axe overhead and use your legs and hips to help. It’s a full body movement, it’ll get your heart to rise up real fast.”

And that’s exactly what Harry needed right now.

With a guttural sound, Harry’s axe sliced through the air. He did it like he would throw a punch, powerful and precise. Perfect. And that was not attractive. Not _at all._

As Louis tried to keep his eyes and ears open, watching upward, and listening for any cracking or groaning sounds indicating the tree might be about to give way, Harry kept chopping, going from side to side, each animalistic groan louder than the last.

It looked like secreting endorphins helped, Harry growing angrier with each swing as opposed to the sad, apathetic version of himself he was an hour before.

It soothed Louis a little bit, seeing Harry like this, feeling better. It had been a long time since he’d had to worry about someone else's feelings, he’d been so focused on self-preservation until now, that he’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be needed.

“That’s it, let it out.” Louis said, spotting the angry tears dwelling at the corners of Harry’s eyes. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”

The words seemed to stop Harry mid-movement, the axe falling limply at Harry’s side.

“What?” Harry said, incredulously, “You— You brought me here to— You really think this is going to help me grieve my friend?”

When Harry’s humourless laugh petered out, it didn’t suit him at all.

On instinct, Louis tensed up, not really knowing where he went wrong but feeling put on the spot nonetheless. “Hey, I know a thing or two about grieving, don’t I? It’s going to be alright. It’ll get better, I promise.”

Louis tried to soothe him but it only seemed to make Harry angrier, his voice rising in the dead of night.  

“No, it’s— No! You think this is helping? You can’t even help yourself, Lou. it’s not working, it won’t work, look at you it’s been four fucking years and you’re still— ”

Harry stopped himself, but it was too late, Louis knew already what he was about to shout. The unsaid words hung in the air between them, like a grenade, ready to explode.

Louis didn’t say anything, too shellshocked to even think about a comeback whatever it might be. so Harry filled the silence.

“That man versus nature thing as a healing process you’re trying to teach me? It’s bullshit.” Harry was full on crying now. “It just goes to show how little you know me. Or care about me. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. So no, It’s not going to be alright. It’s shit. It’s completely shit.”

Harry turned around and fled in a flurry of rushed footsteps, leaving a completely dumbfounded Louis in his wake, along with a tree hanging by a thread.

Louis never related to a tree more in his entire life.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the angst, guys. And by sorry I mean I AM LIVING. I have risen from the ashes of your despair and wearing a devilish smile as we speak. (but it’ll get better I promise)


	9. Chapter 9

"Sometimes, healing requires that you tear open scars, and sow seeds of meaning into bleeding wounds."

— Unknown

  

Louis’ heart hurt, so did his throat, but that might just be because of the lump there. Harry’s words still hung in the air, thrumming at the surface of Louis’ skin, biting more viciously than the freezing Canadian wind.

Louis felled the tree after Harry left, the need to do so irrepressibly nagging at his insides. Then, he patiently, purposefully transformed it into a neat pile of firewood, even if he didn’t have anything with him to bring it back to the house. Anything to calm down the never-ending loop of Harry’s words inside his head.

When he eventually headed home in the middle of the night, he tripped on Harry’s coat forgotten in the entrance, his boots in the stairs and his beanie in the night hall like breadcrumbs of despair leading to Harry’s room, like he’d discarded them in a hurry to bundle up in bed again.

Louis wasn’t surprised Harry wasn’t asleep, he could hear his quiet sobbing from behind the door and Louis felt a pang of guilt in the vicinity of his stomach at that.

So naturally, he had to check, just to make sure he didn't cause any damage while he was trying to help, as improbable as it might be.

He didn’t knock, certain he’d find Harry in the same foetal position as the one he’d found him in earlier. He was right.

Harry looked up, surprised and hiccupy and hastily wiped away the snot and the tears with the sleeve of his sweater.

“How can I help?” Louis asked, voice fleece-soft and laced with genuine care.

He shouldn’t give a shit, probably wouldn’t if it were under any other circumstances, but he knew how hard loss could hit you, how you could feel like despair might swallow you whole if you just let it. He didn’t want that for his worst enemy, let alone Harry.

Maybe his axe wasn’t the key, but Louis was sure he could help in other ways. Plus Harry wasn’t a stranger anymore, he might actually count as a friend now. Maybe.

_Possibly._

Harry looked away, shrugging one shoulder helplessly and munching on the side of his trembling bottom lip.

“Maybe, just— Can you like— [ hold me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_q6GJ-MkFsg)?” Harry asked, looking at his lap, before locking his helpless gaze with Louis’. “Please?”

Something in Louis’ chest expanded, filled his lungs, his stomach, his heart in between the cracks. Something he didn’t want to put a name on, wouldn’t.

Wordlessly he toed off his shoes, climbed on the bed and sat comfortably, slightly leaning on the headboard for support and he opened his arms wide, accepting, safe.

“Come here, then.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately curled up onto Louis without any kind of hesitance, closer than he’d ever been (with one _notable_ exception). He smelled like he usually did, fresh scented pine and honey, soothing in its familiarity.

As soon as his head hit Louis’ chest, Harry let the tears flow freely again and all Louis could do was try and calm him, a clumsy hand running over his back, stiff from lack of habit.

_It’s been so long since he’d last held someone._

Louis shouldn’t be surprised at how open Harry was, letting himself be seen in such a vulnerable state, because that was the kind of person he was, what you saw was what you got with him, an open book for everyone to see. Louis should know, he used to be like that.

But to Louis, wearing your heart on your sleeve was a liability that could only lead to heartbreak and misery.

“I’m sorry about what I said in the woods.” Harry’s voice was all crackly and scratchy in the dark, “It was uncalled for.”

Louis didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet.

Harry was wrong in his assumption anyway. Louis knew exactly what he was doing, there was no need to face reality or his demons in his case, or _deal with anything_ . He was _fine_ , and Harry would be, too.

In fact, widowhood had toughened Louis up, and he felt stronger now. Sure, it made him guarded and of course lonely at times, but at least he didn’t feel helpless, weak.

_Defenseless._

And seeing Harry like he once was himself? It spiked a streak of protectiveness in Louis like never before.

Plus helping other people was a thing that was encrypted in his DNA, as much as he tried to deny it and fight against his nature. It was something he simply had to do, needed to. Harry living in his house was a testimony to that.

“I miss her so much,” Harry said. “She talked so much about you, you know? Like the pieces you performed at Christmas, and the way you were growing up, and how much you loved animals, or the way you ate nuts with your front teeth like a squirrel, and how much she loved your smile.”

Louis huffed out a muted laugh at the nonsensical ramble. “That sounds like Winnie.”

“I think she thought of you as the kid she never had the chance to have.”

The tears started to well up behind Louis’ eyelids. “I think she felt the same about you.” Louis’ voice was tremulous, despite his best effort to hide it.

Louis’ skin prickled, as Harry nudged his face against his, breathing heavily, only to find a better resting place in the crook of Louis’ neck, just where his scruff ended and his throat began.

Louis tilted his head up, to make some room for Harry and Teddy’s closet came directly into his line of sight, slightly ajar, and he couldn’t help but find some symbolism there, taunting him. He fought with everything he had not to get out of the bed and close it. He couldn’t, he had Harry to take care of right now.

Louis' heart was a swing set going back and forth between the two.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Louis considered sharing his own story about Teddy’s death but dismissed the idea as quickly as it passed through his mind.

_Huh. Why the fuck would he even consider that?_

He looked down at Harry, and his tears were soaking down Louis’ shirt unceasingly again, his hand clutching at Louis’ side like a lifeline. The pain looked like it came in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering huffs.

Louis’ right hand was still petting Harry’s back, but he now used the other one to smooth sweaty and tear-soaked little curls back from his forehead. And just like that the decision was made, and the closet was forgotten.

The thing was, Harry looked so beautiful in his vulnerable state, even like this, eyes rimmed red and lashes heavy from tears, mouth puffy and skin splotchy.

Louis never let himself gaze freely for too long ever since that night, scared to get caught in Harry’s magnetism again, drawn to him just like a beacon in the night.

In the dark it was easy to let himself forget, let his head be filled with static, and that was the only reason why Louis leaned down, hand framing Harry’s jaw, not hard, just a press of fingers, just to ground Harry, maybe even ground himself.

Slowly he kissed both of Harry’s cheeks, salty from tears and sweat combined but still tasting oh so sweet.

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

The words didn’t mean anything. They were not what mattered anyway, Harry wanted to be consoled and that was something Louis excelled at even if he was rusty and hadn’t let himself be that person in a long time. It felt safe to do so, something that had its contour well-defined, something he knew he could handle at least.

Louis kissed Harry’s eyelids next, his forehead, the side of Harry’s face, softly, ever so softly.

“Don’t cry, baby.” The words came out so unexpectedly soft and affectionate that Louis’ gut did this terrible _terrible_ little loopy thing he didn’t know how to handle.

It took a moment to realise Harry’s lips were on his, warm and soft and wet, his sigh fanning over Louis’ upper lip like his breathing was saying “finally” without the words being uttered.

The kiss was languid and unrushed, not unlike the first one they shared, but still startling in its contrast.

The sigh that followed was slow, like Harry needed a minute to process what happened (oh did Louis know the feeling.)

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Harry admitted, face framed by Louis’ hands. His eyes  were closed, like it would hurt less if he got rejected, if he didn’t have to _see._

And how could Louis deny a plea so genuinely tempting when it felt natural to lean in and close the gap between the two them?

As Harry opened his eyes, Louis nodded and Harry rushed to say the rest, putting his hands over Louis’ that were still holding his cheeks.

“Don’t ask me to stay quiet this time,” Harry said, somewhere between reproachful and daring, tilting his chin up.

There was a pause, where Louis felt self-conscious and weird about his previous plea being brought up in this manner.

Now that he’d gotten to experience silence in the house again, it felt weird, almost like he missed Harry, almost like he felt Harry’s absence and didn’t cope well with it. He felt shameful ever asking Harry to stay silent in any capacity now.

He disentangled his hands from Harry’s, squeezed them around the pillow behind him, so hard his knuckles hurt. Harry was quick to grab one of his hands between his own though, obviously chasing the contact.

“I let you use me last time but I can’t tonight. Not tonight.” Harry punctuated the sentiment with an insistent stare, like it was the utmost important thing that Louis understood what he was conceding to.

The whole ordeal started to feel more and more like a negotiation where their first time was fight or flight. Come to think of it, like a lot of things when it came to their relationship, it started to look like a personified game of Risk.

Where the winner took over the other’s world.

“I need this,” Harry said dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, staring at Louis’ mouth.

It was unclear what “this” was. But it made Louis feel like he wasn’t cheating on his husband like he did the last time. It wasn’t cheating if he was helping out a friend.

“And I don’t want you to be all _you_ about it tomorrow either,” Harry warned.

He meant cold and distant and _weird_.

Louis didn’t know how to deal with that kind of brutal honesty, as it started to look like Harry knew too much, sensed too much, when Louis was being so careful. It sounded like Louis was getting out of his depth and yet –– Louis nodded mechanically, jerky little movements that were supposed to show his agreement but felt like he was admitting defeat.

Louis kissed him.

Harry couldn’t read his mind if they were kissing.

Harry let out a fragile sound, clutching at the crooks of Louis’ elbows, squeezing and then kissing back with intent, tongue pushing into Louis’ mouth until his whine turned into a moan.

“Want you to touch me.” Harry said, tugging at Louis’ hair and pressing open mouthed kisses into Louis’ collarbone. He made a hold of Louis’ hand and draped it over his own crotch.

Louis gasped, loud and long. Then he squeezed, marvelling at how big and hard Harry’s cock was, pulsing under his fingers, even with two layers of fabric separating them, just from kissing him, just for him.

Louis’ mouth watered.

He managed to pull a groan from Harry as he bucked into Louis’ hand.

“You make me so hard Louis, Jesus.” Harry admitted, pushing Louis so he would lie back.

Louis watched as Harry pulled off his jumper and t-shirt in one swift move, discarding his trousers and underwear just as quickly. Louis was so engrossed in watching he forgot to take care of his own clothes.

He wondered what all the designs on Harry’s arms and chest were about, wondered if Harry would let him drag his tongue around their outlines lazily come morning. But he banished the thought as soon as it came into his mind. This was just a one-night stand, obviously.

With sure hands, Harry started to open Louis’ shirt, as he licked at the sweat in the hollow of his throat, like a parched man at a fountain.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Harry murmured under his breath, making a bundle of the rest of Louis’ clothes and tossing them to the side.

If Harry’s idea of dirty talking was constant praise and appreciation, _Louis was going to die._

Harry stayed on his knees, facing Louis, scratching at his happy trail, lazily, like he had all the time in the world, teeth scraping over the side of his bottom lip. “Love your body hair. Your armpits drive me insane.”

“Shut up.” Louis giggled and looked away to hide his blush. There wasn’t any heat behind his words and judging by Harry’s reaction (his trademarked dimple came out to say hello), he knew it was banter too and not a plea for Harry to be quiet. Not this time, never again.

“Well, I know one way to do that. I mean, I can’t talk when I have a cock in my mouth.”

Louis’ dick twitched, a drop of precome bubbling at his tip in anticipation.

God, it had been so long. He was going to come in fifteen seconds tops, but he wanted that lush mouth wrapped around his cock like air in his lungs at the top of Mount Logan.

“Liar. We both know you’re not a quiet boy,” Louis teased, and Harry smiled, crooked and dirty. Louis cleared his throat, trying to keep his hips from leaving the mattress. “Go ahead then, put that big mouth of yours to use.” He talked with more confidence than he was feeling and Harry smirked at that (a deadly combination, paired with the dimple).

Harry immediately crawled between Louis thighs, palming at them with an appreciative hum. “I’ve wanted to suck you off since forever.”

Louis would ask for specifics but Harry started to suck at his tip right away, no teasing, no  gentle licks so Louis could get used to it, just Harry’s soft mouth, Harry’s hot tongue, sucking him like he would a popsicle and Louis cried out instead, a stifled, surprised moan emanating from his throat.

“Sorry. Long time.” Louis scratched at an invisible itch behind his ear.

Harry let Louis’ cock slide out of his mouth, made an indecent slurping sound, and replaced his mouth with his slender fingers, moving deliciously slow.

“Never apologise for enjoying yourself, Lou.”

Count on Harry to be talkative during a _fucking blowjob_.

Louis watched, lips parted, as Harry went back to it, tongue working like crazy, cheeks hollowed and head bobbing up and down Louis’ cock like a pro. Louis gasped and grunted and shivered, it was just _so much_ . In fact, it was so fucking hot and perfect, just the right amount of pressure and a hint of teeth and it was so _wet_. Louis could feel the saliva dripping down his length, and pooling in his pubic hair.

But the feeling was nothing compared to the sounds Harry made, little pleased huffs interrupted by vibrating moans around his dick like he was getting off on Louis getting off.

He could feel the heat and the pleasure spiking up his groin like small electric shocks into his system, making his chest feel warm and his heart feel alive.

It was a feeling Louis could just get lost in.

Subconsciously, his hands tugged at the nape of Harry’s hair, a warning that he was close, too close, and he didn’t want it to end, not yet.

Harry got the hint and slid off minutely.

“I want you inside me.” Harry blurted out, bluntly and breathlessly, wiping a bit of drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

Oh hell no. He couldn’t, would never. the idea alone made him jump out of his skin and his eyes dart to the half open closet again on their own accord for a millisecond.

“No. I can’t. Anything but that, I— no. Sorry— Anything. Just not that.” He managed to get out, between breaths.

Harry was impervious to his inner turmoil though, too wrapped up in whatever he was feeling to notice.

“You don’t top?” Harry asked, through half hooded lids. He looked like he was running a fever, skin sweaty and breathing laboured. He was back to kneeling before Louis and his lower half was undulating lazily like he was already riding cock in his head, hands stroking down his own body, showing Louis what he could be doing right this second if he got outside his head.

Louis didn’t think he ever saw anything hotter in his life.

“I do. I just— ” Louis exhaled shakily.

“You just what?”

“I used to.” Louis muttered, “I don’t think I want that anymore.”

Louis knew he was lying. Seeing Harry’s hips oscillating, the muscles of his thighs straining and twitching, it made Louis groan mutedly, the want manifesting itself in unusual, surprising ways.

Like his body doing motions without Louis really meaning to. He was now sucking a bruise in Harry’s upper thigh, coaxing gentle moans from him and Louis didn’t even remember _moving in the first place._

The fact of the matter was that he used to top more often than not with Teddy, and he didn’t think he was ready for that just yet. He didn’t want to bring it up. Felt it wasn’t the time or place, didn’t even feel like he was protecting himself for once.

It was more about protecting the moment and that was also new.

“Anything else you don’t want?” Harry asked, from above him, voice shot to hell.

Louis wasn’t looking at him, he was too busy admiring the mark he just left in the jut of Harry’s hip, oval and purple and angry. Perfect.

“Nope.”

“Hands and knees.” Harry commanded and Louis had to suppress a whine.

He began to trail kisses from Louis’ spine to the top of his ass, gentle and soft and his breath tickled at Louis’ skin like feathers.

Louis was fully prepared for a good dicking. Maybe even some fingering. What he didn’t see coming however, was Harry running his hands over the globes of his cheeks parting them and licking a fat stripe along his hole without any warning.

“Motherfucker!”

Harry’s laugh was sudden, but he recovered quickly. “Hey, you said anything.”

God, Louis didn’t even have to turn around to see him cock an eyebrow and smirk. Ass.

Louis let out a high-pitched, dejected whine, head lolling to the side and mouth falling open and pulled a pillow to press the side of his flushed face into.

“This okay?” Harry ventured, sounding unsure at Louis’ lack of response.

It wasn’t okay. It was so far from okay. It’s been so long since someone took care of him but it felt foreign, too intimate for what this was: a comforting fuck. And yet, Louis pushed his ass out for Harry, his body betraying him again, every one of his cells chanting Harry’s name.

Harry groaned and buried himself there, eating ass like he sucked cock, with everything he had. The way his tongue breached inside, sure and precise, the way he touched —  light, soft fingertips grazing Louis’ sides, then holding his thighs to keep him in place was _nothing_ like the way Ed used to do it.

The sounds that Harry managed to coax out of him were both out of this world and positively indecent.

Louis couldn’t care less.

He felt like he was lit from within, on fire from the inside out, burning, burning, burning and it wasn’t even what Harry did with his tongue and fingers, that got to him, it was the mumbled words, that escaped his mouth in between licks like Louis wasn’t even meant to hear them.

 _God you’re so hot_. _I could do this for hours; Best ass I’ve ever felt._   _Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, Lou. Lou, Lou, Lou._

Louis’ body jerked as he came, he didn’t even realize he was stroking himself in time with Harry’s ministrations until the sheets were drenched in come.

“Fuck. Don’t move.” Harry rushed out, voice gravelly, as Louis’ knees wobbled, “Stay— Don’t— Shit.”

Harry pulled at his cock, with almost violent little twists of his wrist.

His head tipped back as he came all over Louis’ ass, his hand still squeezing at the meat of one of Louis’ asscheeks possessively.

Right away, Harry draped himself over Louis’ back, like an octopus, not caring about the come or the sweat or anything, effectively gluing himself there.

He tipped them over to the side carefully, so he was spooning Louis and Louis only noticed now how hot the metal of Harry’s rings felt against his belly, how warm his heart felt, period.

“Thank you.” Harry murmured nosing around his ear, soft and intimate, planting dry kisses along his cheek, and Louis’ heart somersaulted.

 _I have this under control_ , he kept thinking, as his heart wouldn’t stop hammering against his ribs.

He had this under control. He wasn’t doing anything wrong if he was helping out a friend. He wasn’t catching feelings if he was helping out a friend. Harry would be gone soon enough, there was no risk. No risk at all.

Still, he felt like he was better safe than sorry, so he waited for Harry to drift off before he tiptoed his way out of the room, skin still warm from Harry’s heat, his dried come still all over Louis’ back, his smell still invading Louis’ nostrils, engraved in his memories forever.

He closed the closet on his way out.

  
  

 

Louis kept his promise and actively tried not to be an asshole the morning after and Harry made it easy, not saying anything about waking up alone.

It seemed pretty clear on both their parts that what happened that night was a one time thing without needing to broach the subject, and that was a relief. But there was no denying things kind of shifted after that.

The sad broken look on Harry’s face was still there — especially when Thomas visited or when Winnie was brought up —  but at least he was not back to the subdued, lifeless version of himself that had gotten Louis a little worried, even if Louis wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it.

Ever since that night, it was as if Harry felt like he was given permission to get closer to Louis, seeking his proximity, every chance he got. Squeezing at Louis’ shoulder as a good morning while he was reading his paper, sitting on the same couch as him and sharing a blanket whenever they watched cartoons on Sunday morning, hugging to say goodnight, and one time even stroking Louis’ cheek for no good reason at all.

Louis didn’t mind as long as he was careful to keep a safe emotional distance at all times (since he was apparently incapable of holding the physical one).

Truth be told, Harry wasn’t the only one seeking their connection. Louis offered his help when Harry confided in him about writing a memory book for Winnie. Harry wasn’t sure it was the best idea to give it to Thomas, fearful it would only put salt into a bleeding wound but Louis reassured him right away: he was certain Thomas would be happy to have something left of her to hold on to.

So every day, when Harry would usually have spent time visiting Winnie, Louis helped him sort through his notes. They worked side by side sharing pictures and stories of  their mutual friend, but also about their work, the winter formal, about how hard it was sometimes to live away from your family— small things, really, but they got to know each other a little better.

Harry always sat directly on his left and as Louis was left handed, they always knocked elbows at some point. Still, Harry stubbornly stayed put, claiming this was his chair and he didn’t want it any other way, even offering to kiss it better if Louis acted particularly snotty.

Louis rolled his eyes every time.

He felt like Harry appreciated the comfort, the camaraderie, almost like he was grateful for Louis just being there, and Louis didn’t hate that. Didn’t feel guilty about that. Didn’t hate feeling useful.

Didn’t hate being Harry’s friend.

  
  

 

It happened again almost by accident. At least Harry thought so because he didn’t _actively_ try and convince Louis to let it happen. Well not at first. One minute Louis was scratching at the back of his neck, swearing under his breath while peeling the potatoes, and the next Harry was offering to cut his hair.

It was long overdue in Harry’s opinion.

He flushed when Louis stopped peeling and looked right back at him, eyes piercing, calculating, like he was weighing the pros and cons in his head.

(It wasn’t that big of a deal, but whatever.)

“It’s just that you always have your fringe in your eyes,” Harry explained, heart beating a little faster just like any other time he had Louis’ undivided attention, “and you keep trying to blow it away— ” _in the cutest most precious manner,_ Harry didn’t say out loud _,_ “and I used to be a hairdresser when I lived in LA— ”.

“I thought you were a nanny when you were in LA.” Louis’ answer was stiff but the only thing Harry could focus on was that Louis remembered something Harry said about himself almost three months ago.

“Among other things, yeah.”

“You think I’d let a klutz like you anywhere near my carotid with a sharp object?” If it wasn’t for the nearly imperceptible twitch of Louis’ mouth, Harry would have deflated, but he’d learned to interpret the most insignificant gestures coming from Louis a long time ago. Harry took pride in that.

The signs were invisible to the naked eye for most people.

He suspected Louis’ friends noticed too, although they didn’t say anything about it, which was just as well. What would he even say? _You know when you yell at Louis and he just takes it, fists clenching along his thighs, it means he wants to be hugged_? They would just think Harry was losing his mind.

“I promise it’ll be painless,” Harry smiled, already pulling a chair, “Who knows, I might even manage to make you look hot.”           

“Please,” Louis snorted, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and dropping it on the kitchen counter before taking a seat in the chair before Harry. The _I’m always hot_ was implied but Harry heard it loud and clear, regardless.

“One second,” Harry clasped his hands on Louis’ shoulders, squeezing a little, “I’m going to get what I need and then I’ll take care of you.” He allowed his eyes to trail along the back of Louis’ head, trying to contain the smile that threatened to split his face.

He couldn’t help it if he was giddy, he was about to trail his hands in Louis’ soft chestnut fringe. He was going to be _allowed_ to touch Louis again instead of having to resort to the subtle excuses to do so that he’d come up with over the last few days.

His fingertips may or may not be buzzing in anticipation.  

Once he had slid a worn-out towel around Louis’ shoulders, he got to work.

He used to chat up his customers back in the hair salon, but it didn’t seem appropriate now.

Not when Louis seemed so tense and his breathing louder than usual.

“Relax,” Harry murmured, parting Louis’ hair deeply to the right, which would make him comically resemble Zayn for a minute, if it wasn’t for the salt and pepper hair hidden there at his temple. “I know what I’m doing.”

Harry’s face was incredibly close to Louis’, as strand after strand hit the cold tile floor thanks to Harry’s ministrations. Crouched down on the floor, eyes level with Louis’ profile, he could almost count every one of his eyelashes and that idea alone caused Harry’s stomach to swoop stupidly.

He had to concentrate on the fine hair around the contour of Louis’ ear to snap out of it. It was a mistake, because below Louis’ left ear lay the column of his throat where his pulse point was throbbing, begging to be tongued at again. And again. And again. And ag—

Harry jolted up, clearing his throat self consciously as if Louis could read his thoughts.

Suddenly, the air in the kitchen seemed too stifling, Harry’s skin, too tight, the silence around them too deafening.

He started humming, hand reaching for Louis’ chin and Louis — let him, albeit stiffly. Harry turned Louis’ face left to right, squinting to check if both sides were even, but he was too aware of the puffs of air coming from Louis’ nose, of Louis’ scruff dragging under his fingertips, to focus properly.

"I could give you a shave, too,” He croaked out, “Show off the freckles on your cheek." The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. On his cheek, were peppered freckles in the form of a constellation, like the universe chose to leave behind part of itself on Louis Tomlinson’s skin. And even if Harry loved Louis’ body hair, he would kill to have a glimpse of Louis’ neck and cheeks sans scruff.

Just out of curiosity.                

"Uh huh." Louis answered, quietly, almost inaudibly. He swallowed.

They stared at each other for a beat and Harry swore he saw something flash in Louis’ eyes but it was gone so fast Harry wondered if he had dreamt it.

Harry hid in the bathroom for a minute, under the pretense of getting Louis’ razor. He needed the reprieve to get out of the haze he found himself in. He felt both frenzied and high, like he’d smoked a joint and run a marathon, simultaneously.

A few deep breaths before the mirror did the trick to calm the throbbing behind his breast bone.

Louis hadn’t moved a muscle while Harry was gone, not even to check himself in the mirror.

Harry was a pretty confident guy generally, but looming over Louis who had his throat bared for him made Harry’s knees wobble a tiny bit, which was unfortunate when holding a razor blade.

The bobbing of Louis’ adam’s apple was too distracting not to notice.

“Stop moving or I’ll hurt you.” Harry warned, ready to drag the blade over Louis’ skin.

“Wait.” Louis interrupted. “I— I can’t do smooth, I’ll look like I’m seventeen again. No. I don’t want that.”

There was a flicker of dread lingering at the tail end of his sentence, like he was scared to let Harry poke at that barrier, remove that layer, put down that wall.

Harry would also understand if he didn’t want to look like he did in the pictures of himself scattered around the house alongside Ed.

“Okay.” Harry acquiesced, “How about a trim, then? A nice short stubble would suit you just as much. Best of both worlds.”

Louis nodded, sighing in relief and sagged back into his chair. He stayed dead silent as Harry let his fingertips roam freely over Louis’ soft skin, heartbeat wildly erratic at every catch of Louis’ breath.

Each drag of the electric trimmer made Louis’ face spring bit by bit, like a snake shedding its skin. No, he looked like a tract of woodland after Louis had worked on it and cleaned it anew —  void of trees or big bushes.

He looked like a clearing.

“All done.” Harry said, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, as Louis stood up.

“Thanks.” Louis said, mutedly, dusting off his trousers and shaking the leftover hair from his shoulders. “How do I look?” He asked, and there was something fragile there, hiding in the wavers of his voice, like he needed to know what Harry thought before checking for himself, or like he was stalling, not ready to face his own reflection.

Without thinking too much about it, Harry’s hands immediately slipped behind his neck and underneath his jaw. “You look absolutely breathtaking.” Harry murmured truthfully.

He was not imagining the pink of Louis’ ears now that they were in full view, he wasn’t inventing the way Louis gasped at his words either.

“Thank you.” Louis murmured, careful and pleased, before he proceeded to plant a kiss square on Harry’s cheek, his dainty hands sliding behind Harry’s back and briefly hugging him close.

He was about to flee, but Harry didn’t let Louis disentangle himself from his grip.

Despite Louis blowing hot and cold, Harry was tired of denying himself.

So he dove in, confident he wasn’t flying blind anyway.

First, he planted a small kiss high on Louis’ cheek were the skin was bare, marvelling at the soft stubble there, then another on the corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” Louis asked, tone reproachful, but he didn’t move an inch, he stayed there, braced by Harry’s arms.

“Needed the reminder of how good you tasted.” Harry smiled.

Louis shivered imperceptibly, let a beat or two pass by.

“Do you want another taste?”

Harry couldn’t look away from Louis’ lips or his blown-out pupils as Louis’ offered his mouth up for a kiss, little pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“Shit. I want you so much all the time.” Harry whined, before diving in, hungrily licking past the seam of his lips, coaxing his mouth open. Louis’ fingers tangled in his hair immediately while Harry sucked Louis’ tongue into his mouth. It got Louis whimpering in no time, legs parting so Harry would just step between them, like he wanted Harry there yesterday.

Louis’ breath moved across Harry’s skin to finish its course over Harry’s ear. “All the time?” He asked, bold and teasing, hands slipping down Harry’s torso and cupping his soft cock through his jeans. It twitched at the attention, coming to life in anticipation.

“Need you all the fucking time.” Harry confirmed, feeling drunk.

It wasn’t even a lie. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanted to put his cock in Louis’ every hole. Wanted to rub it on every square centimeter of Louis’ body. In his mouth, in his throat until he choked on it, in his ass until he gasped with need, in between his thighs, so much it became kind of a problem, actually.

There was nothing more inappropriate than to get a surprise boner at a parent-teacher conference because you let your mind drift off to Louis Tomlinson taking your cock, Harry could testify to that.

Louis nodded, faux nonchalant, tapping at Harry’s pectoral muscle and sliding out of his grip, towards the front door.

It had stopped snowing sometime earlier but there was still a thick layer of white powder layering the landscape, enough to frame the windows in white confetti-like flakes.

“You know what I’ve never tried? I’ve never fucked in the barn.” Louis said casually like he was commenting on the weather. It sounded like the most exquisite invitation Harry had ever received (and he was blown on the Eiffel Tower once). “You should get what you need and join me. I’m checking on Jasper.” Louis’ eyes traced Harry’s lips, tongue darting in and out slowly.

Harry hurried up the stairs and into his room, frantically looking for lube and condoms, then tripped on the last step down the stairs, and nearly broke his wrist in his landing.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he didn't feel a thing.

Mind racing, he ran through the snow, following Louis’ footsteps, not even putting on a coat.

He found Louis inside, facing the wooden wall with his jeans pooling at his ankles and his plaid shirt completely undone and askew, showing off one naked shoulder and the curve of his bare ass.

It was a mental image that was going to fuel Harry’s wet dreams for decades to come.

“Took you long enough.” Louis remarked, head lolling to the side and back languidly, like it was too heavy for him to carry upright, “almost started without you.”

Instead of drinking in his fill of Louis’ body, of every sharp line of his face and every curve everywhere else, instead of picking his way through there, Harry— soared. Jumping over various pieces of equipment and tripping on what looked vaguely like a rake to finally land, sprawling, at Louis’ feet.

Jasper didn’t even bat an eyelash, the treacherous bastard.

Louis’ honk of a laugh could be heard a mile away. The view was so lovely, his head was tipped back, and his crinkling laugh lines were visible now that his fringe was shorter. He was laughing so hard that he gripped at his belly to control the tremors.

His laugh was infectious and Harry grinned up at him despite probably breaking a limb or two.

To anyone, the scene would look ridiculous, to Harry it was one of his greatest accomplishments, being able to make Louis look like this, feel like that.

_Harry was sunburned._

“Ow.” Harry hissed through the smile.

“Sorry, sorry, are you okay, baby?” Louis asked, still shaken by the giggles and pulling his trousers up so he could crouch down beside him.

It was the second time Louis had called him baby. Not that Harry was counting. Well, he was totally counting and even if he wasn’t foolish enough to say anything about it, it still felt like they were heading for more, slowly but steadily. Harry was getting used to the idea, in fact he felt like he could embrace it with open arms. Not unlike the way Louis was embracing him right this second.

“I’m fine, I just pulled like seven muscles and punctured a major organ. You might want to take me to the hospital.”

“Shit, are you serious?” Louis’ smile was gone, replaced by a worried, little frown atop his pretty eyes, his hand hovering close to Harry’s cheek and eyes darting everywhere on Harry’s body.

“No.” Harry smiled dopily and Louis punched him in the arm, groaning.

“It’s not funny.” Louis reprimanded, folding his arms in front of himself, all traces of mirth gone.

“Hey.” Harry said, softer, pulling Louis onto his lap on the dirty ground, not really knowing if a boundary was crossed. “I’m sorry, I’m okay, I’m fine. I swear.”

Louis huffed out a sigh, folding his arms around Harry’s neck and letting Harry fondle and pet him like a petulant child needing to be indulged.

Harry let his hands roam freely under the thick material of the plaid shirt, until Louis’ breathing turned laboured and he tilted his head to the side seaking Harry’s mouth with his own in a messy, angry kiss that was more teeth than anything else.

“How come you’re so bad with your feet and so good with your hands?” Louis asked begrudgingly, like it was some kind of affront to him. It certainly was one to psychomotricity.

It didn’t look like he was waiting for an answer, furiously tugging at Harry’s belt buckle, and tearing his shirt open, not even bothering with the buttons.

“How did you get a driving licence with such a bad hand/foot coordination? How?”

Louis was still frowning that little frown he wore when he was doing numbers or when Jasper was being particularly stubborn (like pet, like master) and his hands were still roaming over Harry’s body but it was mechanical, almost clinical.

“Lucky me, I have my own chauffeur, now?” Harry cocked an eyebrow, still debating if the whole thing was hot or concerning.

“Yeah. That’s true.” The hands came to a halt and the relief that washed over Louis’ face was almost palpable. His shoulders sagged imperceptibly. He turned his head away but there was no denying the wet sheen of his eyes. “That’s true.” Louis said again resolutely, but it didn’t look like he was talking to Harry.

“I’m cold.” He shivered and it struck Harry that the barn was freezing, even if Louis was heating it for the winter for Jasper’s benefit (and Harry’s own, he _knew)_ , he didn’t notice before, high on lust and on Louis’ reenactment of a porn movie intro.

Harry gathered as much as he could of Louis in his arms, absorbing every tremor of his shaking body, half holding him half crushing him until the quivers ceased, Harry still unsure of what just happened.

Eventually, Louis lifted his hips, eyes trained on Harry as he eased his jeans down again.

“I was promised a good fuck, mister principal.” Louis said, tone back to daring. Every trace of what’s been bothering him now gone.

Oh, it was on.

Technically Harry never promised anything but he wasn’t about to say anything about that out loud.

He let Louis manoeuver him over to a nest of fresh hay, discarding his pants on the way, flopping them into it with a careless hand over Harry’s stomach.

“it’s not as comfy as it looks in porn.” Harry remarked, strands of hay scratching at his back mercilessly.

Louis giggled, rolling his eyes and rising to his feet, booty swaying as he went and fished out a blanket from a trunk beside the saddles.

“City boys.” Louis huffed out, mirth dancing in his eyes, “If it’s okay with you now Principal Pillow Princess, I’d very much like for you to fuck my mouth and then fuck me period.”

“Heyyy.” Harry drawled, mock-offended, then smiled up at him, unable to stop himself.

How was Louis real? How did he manage to bring Harry to life and to his knees all at the same time?

“You’re still sassing but you should be on your knees already, beautiful.”

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, then looked around carefully, eyes drifting across the room choosing a comfortable spot to land his knees on. “Come here, city boy.”

He was still wearing his shirt and nothing else and Harry felt his cock come to life once again. Harry fumbled with his trousers, pulling his dick out and sliding his boxers down past his balls. His cock was hardening by the second but he still stroked it to full thickness, spurred on by Louis’ hungry eyes.

He grabbed Louis by the back of his head, nudging his cock closer to his mouth but missed, smearing precome over Louis’ scruffed chin. Louis resisted a bit, head stiff.

“Open up for me, gorgeous, ” Harry instructed, “cover your teeth.”

Louis huffed out a breath, dragging his tongue over his front teeth, flashing a perfectly arched eyebrow. Louis was playing coy when he was the one asking for his mouth to be fucked in the first place. _Typical._

When Louis deigned parting his lips, Harry fucked the whole head in at once, thrusting further almost immediately, incapable of waiting any longer. Louis’ mouth stretched around him, pushed the foreskin with his tongue and lips but he landed a surprising slap at Harry’s ass punishingly, hot and stinging and Harry hissed out a moan.

“Fuck.” Harry slurred, asshole clenching around nothing.

Even as his dick was enveloped in warm, tight, _perfect_ heat, Harry realized he would still kill for some action in his own ass.

“I know you said you’re not up to fuck me but,” Harry ventured, “how do you feel about some fingering?”

“You like being fingered?” Louis murmured, voice smoky and teasing, punctuating his words with a deliberate squeeze of Harry’s right cheek and a smack. _Fucking tease._

“Please.” Harry whined.

Louis made a non commital noise before he retrieved the bottle of lube from Harry’s pocket and buckled back to his knees.

His fingers were clumsy while he coated them with lube and he sealed his mouth back over the head of Harry’s cock immediately after, still hard as a rock, still hard for Louis.

He didn’t go any further than the tip, teasing, working his tongue over the bundle of nerves on the underside just below the head and it drove Harry completely crazy with need.

“God.” Harry cried, tipping his head back concentrating on holding back his orgasm.

Harry could feel a hand ghosting over his crack and his thighs quivered in anticipation.

“Do it.” Harry said, between a plea and a cry, “Shit. Do it. Fuck. Put it in. Come on.”

Louis blinked up at Harry, big, piercing, blue eyes staring intently through fluttering eyelashes and without breaking eye contact, he dragged a finger to Harry’s entrance slowly. As Louis breached past the first ring of muscle, Harry gasped in relief, jaw going slack immediately.

“Fuck, yes.” Harry croaked, when Louis started to slip his finger in and out in time with his sucks. Harry could only push back then, wanting more, always more.

“There. Right there.” Harry indicated, as Louis added another finger, brushing against Harry’s prostate, and keeping his fingers there, proding relentlessly. At the same time, Louis’ mouth sank all the way down Harry’s length, practically swallowing him whole, choking on it, cockhead hitting the back of his throat. Louis gagged, but recovered quickly, eyes wet but posture determined, nose brushing against Harry’s belly, inhaling hard and swallowing around him.

Harry cradled the back of Louis’ scalp then. Not pushing, just keeping him there, close.

“You’re going to make me come like this.” Harry moaned, still feeling Louis’ throat flutter around himself even as he stopped moving. Harry traced Louis’ lips, thumbed along where his mouth was stretched. “God, you’re so pretty like this, made to suck my cock, aren’t you?”

He never felt more alive than right this second, buried deep into Louis’ heat. He wasn’t sad or weak or grieving or insecure or anything. He was there, anchored in the moment, connected to Louis in the deepest way, feet rooted in the ground like one of Louis’ beloved trees, _alive_ , here. Now. And the need to come sizzled through his whole body at once.

He came with Louis’ fingers curling over his prostate, holding Louis’ stretched jaw around his tip.

After Louis finished sucking him dry, Harry crumpled in his arms, lighthearted and chest heaving.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured in Louis’ hair, mindlessly petting down his sides.

He felt like he could sleep for eleven hours after an orgasm that intense, especially since Louis looked extremely satisfied with himself, thumbing at the come at the corner of his mouth and feeding it to Harry filthily.

Harry maneuvered them over the blanket, catching his breath, while Louis smiled, peppering lingering kisses over the sweat prickling at his torso.

“Raincheck on the fuck?” Harry heaved, leaning in close enough that he could feel Louis’ scruff against his cheek, before turning his face and rubbing against it.

Louis honked out a laugh, obviously taking it as the compliment it was, pink flush high on his cheekbones.

He was still hard though, cock red and flushed and so ready to be worshipped, Harry could not let the opportunity go to waste. He was a pragmatist after all.

“Give me a kiss.” Harry said, already stealing one, hot tongue slipping past Louis’ wet lips and swiping his tongue against Louis’. Harry savored every inch of his mouth, tasting the remnants of himself there.

Louis hummed through the kiss, languid and unrushed, body angling in Harry’s direction like a sunflower to the sun.

Working a fresh lovebite over Louis’ newly smooth neck, Harry eased Louis’ hand towards his crotch, gently spurring him on.

“You want me to touch myself?” Louis murmured heatedly. “Want me to do all the work again?”

“Mmmmmh.” Harry was too busy sliding his tongue over the pink of Louis’ nipple to even register the rebuke.

Louis’ hand wrapped around his dick, gave it a slow tight stroke then another, then another, moaning increasing with every drag of his fingers. His cock was as gorgeous as the rest of him. He was not as big as Harry but he had girth and Harry surprised himself daydreaming about having it inside himself again, stretched hole clenching around nothing in reflex.

“Such a pretty cock.” Harry sucked at one of Louis’ little nubs, tweaking the other.

Louis’ moans deteriorated to a constant litany of mumbled curses and unintelligible whines and Harry couldn’t resist anymore, had to wrap his hand around Louis’ smaller one, guiding his strokes, speeding them up until—

“I’m coming.” Louis whined, words gasped into the sweat of Harry’s shoulder. “I’m coming, I’m— ahhh.”

He shot his load over both their hands, come sliding in the interstices of their intertwined fingers and Harry marvelled at it, licking their fingers clean, Louis watching him through half lidded eyes from start to finish.

“You’re perfect.” Harry said, gathering Louis into his arms, and he didn’t imagine Louis sighing at the words.

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

For the third time.

But Louis’ smile was blinding when he said he’d be cashing out on that raincheck soon and Harry relished that last sunburn for hours before drifting off to sleep, sated and happy.

  
  

 

Fuck buddies.

That was what Louis ended up calling them in his head. Never out loud though. No. Never that. God forbid they put a label on what they were doing.

No, they didn’t talk about the sex although it happened again. And again. And again. Not regularly enough for it to become a pattern or a habit or something too concerning for Louis but it seemed that as December rolled in, so did Harry’ sexual appetite.

Honestly Harry kept him on his toes, never really knowing when or how he was going to get pounded: folded over the dining table one time, doggy style on every surface of the kitchen floor, in the shower against the tile before Louis was even fully awake. It was a good thing he was on holiday or else his waddle would be deemed a problem for work.

Harry was capable of turning Louis’ body into a frenzy of sparks, the simple touch of his hands leading Louis to move in ways he never knew before, but soon learned so well.

It also invigorated Harry, what they were doing, that much was clear. It showed in the way that he fucked, how sated he looked afterwards, in the little huffs of relief he made as he came, like Louis was providing medicine for his bruised, fragile heart. He plain told Louis once how much sex helped as a reminder to celebrate life.

Louis was more than happy to provide a distraction, hell, he wasn’t complaining, Harry did the same for him, too. So he let himself enjoy having a little bit of happiness right here, right now.

There was no Always. No Forever. Just this moment.

It was a dangerous game though. He had to be careful not to let it go too far.

As long as he didn’t grow attached, he was fine. As long as as he didn’t catch feelings, he was safe, he reminded himself again and again.

He wasn’t about to let himself be fucked over by fate again. No way.

The problem lay in the fact that they did a lot of things besides actually _fucking._

A fuck buddy wouldn’t drive Harry everywhere. A fuck buddy wouldn’t go grocery shopping with him and wouldn’t start bickering on what brand of shampoo would make Louis’ hair feel softer. A fuck buddy wouldn’t agree to chaperone the freakin’ winter formal he was planning to prank (Harry had caught him just after a particularly satisfying orgasm. That was his excuse: Harry took advantage of the moment).

Harry had confided about what he wanted to do for Niall (and Casey) at the dance and how his plan still had a plot hole the size of his fist. How could Niall charm the pants off Casey dancing to the quiet beat of ‘Winter Song’ if Niall was the one playing on the piano?

 _My plan is extremely flawed Louis, can’t you see?_ Harry had said, completely engrossed in his story (it was cute how much the whole thing meant to him anyway), so Louis caved, accepted to provide emotional support for a friend that day, suspected he was manipulated into it Niall-style, didn’t care, even indulged Harry’s foolish dream of researching ways to actually book Sara Bareilles to sing that night.

He had fun. Following Harry’s craziest ideas was fun like nothing else.

The point was that fuck buddies Netflixed and chilled (although they did that too).

So maybe fuck buddies wasn’t the right term. Maybe they were more like friends with benefits.

But even that felt off.

To the outside eye, nothing was out of the ordinary, they didn’t act any differently when they were surrounded by people, but Louis knew.

They were sharing a bed way too frequently to be casual even _he_ knew that and it felt less and less like helping out a friend and more and more like something else, something dangerous as days went by.

He didn’t think about it most of the time, too often kept in a sex haze to even begin to analyze where the problem really lay: Harry was smuggling away little pieces of his heart, one by one.

No they definitely weren’t friends with benefits either.

But if they weren’t friends, then what were they?

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was all that smut? Tell me. I have been crowned “Smut Princess” by our local Smut Queen aka Lisa (a-writerwrites). I want to know if she’s just being nice to me (Praise kink is a thing I might share with Louis. Who knew?).  
> Also armpit crew, that ref was for you. You know the one.


	10. Chapter 10

“The past beats inside me like a second heart.”

— John Banville, The Sea

 

Louis was a creature of habit. He had his routine and liked to stick to it, like waking up early or taking care of Jasper just before dinner.

It was the same with the usual game night with his friends he hosted every Tuesday (no matter how much Louis complained about it, Harry just knew that it was one of his rituals he wouldn’t change for anything in the world), even though it turned into an official winter formal G5 more often than not these days.

On this particular Tuesday night, Harry was busying himself clearing the dining table of cotillon samples, bills, and various ordering slips, so they could eat the homemade pizza Louis was currently reheating, when Harry’s attention caught on Niall.

He was stood in front of the piano, one hand curled around his hip and the other stroking his chin like he was trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube.

“What’s wrong, Niall?” Harry ventured, throwing the paper trash into the open fire.

“Harry.” Niall asked, eyes still trained on the musical instrument, “Did you use the piano again?”

Harry’s gaze flicked from Niall to the piano and back, only now noticing the lid was raised.

“No.” Harry replied, caught a little off guard, his brows furrowing. “You told me not to.”

For a minute they both stood there side by side, dumbly staring at the piece of wood like it had offended them. Come to think of it, it looked generally cleaner than how Harry remembered it, polished.  

A moment later, Niall tapped a few notes, his slender fingers sliding over the keys and playing a familiar melody.

“Heh.” He said, sounding somewhere between baffled and enthusiastic, his face breaking open into a genuine, wide smile.

“What?” Harry chuckled, compelled to laugh by Niall’s demeanor but not really following the plot.

“Nothing.” Niall looked so satisfied, it was impossible not to insist.

“Come on, tell me.” Harry pressed, smiling beside himself, curiosity getting the best of him.

Niall made a single waggle of his eyebrow, clasping a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder like a football coach would his most valuable player.

“It’s been tuned, my friend.”

Louis.

Louis had tuned the piano.

Louis who was _not ready to hear music again_ according to Niall himself a few weeks ago, had tuned the piano. Louis, who hated change with a passion had tuned the piano. Maybe he even _played_ the piano while Harry was at school.

The possibilities of what that could mean, for Louis, for Harry, for them, made his ears buzz and his skin prickle. He couldn’t help but feel like he had something to do with it too, and he fought with everything he had not let his emotions show on his face, scared Niall would read him like an open book.

It was unnecessary though, Niall was too busy discreetly updating Liam and Zayn to even care.

  
  

 

After that, there was no point in lying to himself, Harry felt like he could move mountains.

Maybe even fly.

It felt like something of significance had happened there, like he could finally indulge in what he truly desired. After weeks of burying his feelings so deeply that he rivaled Louis Tomlinson himself, he was allowed to let go a bit now that there was finally hope.

As Emily Dickinson once said, “ _Hope was a thing with feathers that perched in the soul, sang the tune without the words and never stopped at all”._

Hope changed everything.

Hope wormed into the core of their relationship and then grew, despite the snow, like the most resilient weed. Hope was a living thing, It had a heart and a soul of its own, arms and legs like tentacles capable of hanging on everything in its vicinity.

But hope was stupid and careless too.

It obliterated everything important in its wake, like his contract that would be ending in less than three weeks, or the email from an old friend offering him a temp job that he’d been stalling on replying to, or the fact that a blaring alarm bell still went off in the back of his mind whenever he started to think about making bigger changes around the house. Even today as he’d rummaged through some of Louis’ forgotten junk in the attic looking for items for the winter formal fundraiser garage sale that was planned in three days, hope had crept in to Harry’s thinking.

When Harry asked one last time, Niall said he could, looking both smug and tremendously satisfied about Harry getting rid of old stuff clogging the house. He didn’t dwell long on the fact that he could have asked Louis directly, or on the reasons why he didn’t.

Niall knew Louis inside out and Harry trusted Niall.

Harry hoped he wouldn’t regret it (there was a reason he’d pushed it off to the last minute), but hope was a treacherous, _treacherous_ thing.

Maybe, he hoped, Louis needed the extra disturbance in his routine to get back to himself. Harry always suspected routine and order were something Louis needed now, to cope, to keep his sanity, even though the way he was described in his youth by Winnie BE (read: Before Ed, in Harry’s head) was always wild or spontaneous, turbulent, nothing like the version of Louis that Harry had first met a few months ago.

Maybe Harry was exactly the right person to push at those barriers, even though he was very much AE (After Ed), maybe that’s exactly _why_ Louis needed his help on the path to recovery.

And if Harry was impatient, he blamed it vaguely on hope. And feelings.

And if it was too much too soon, it was too late to backtrack now, Louis was home from grocery shopping and Harry could hear him coming in.

The sudden silence that followed in the wake of him dropping the bags on the kitchen table told Harry everything he needed to know.

“Harry?” Louis called from the bottom of the stairs. “Why are the Christmas decorations out? Where did you even find them?”

Louis’ tone set off a pang of alarm and then it melted into sadness, spreading a cold, icy chill down Harry’s spine and an itch at the back of his throat. It lead him to close Teddy’s closet, bubbles of dread forming low in his belly. He only opened it to find Niall’s old tennis rackets for the rummage sale anyway.

Only now did he remember that Niall sometimes was too heavy-handed in his way of pushing Louis, when gentle coaxing was usually the way to go to get Louis out of his comfort zone.

_Shit._

He could only hope that his assumptions were true, that he was allowed to do it because he belonged inside Louis’ circle now, was allowed to see Louis’ softer side, behind the harsh, abrasive exterior.

“Harry? Where are you?” Louis’ voice was closing in, “Did— Are you baking gingerbread?” He squeaked next.

The door opened, and Harry braced himself for what was to come.

It still took him by surprise, the way Louis’ face was contorted by rage as he found Harry sat on the floor surrounded by junk and forgotten treasures alike, at the foot of Teddy’s closet.

“What are you doing?” Louis’ eyes darted everywhere, wide and unbelievably hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Despite his heart beating like mad, Harry tried to keep his cool, tried to use a soothing voice, as he rose to his feet, purposefully ignoring the giant elephant in the room.

“It’s almost Christmas, Lou.” Harry simply said, “Wanted to decorate. You love Christmas, I was told.”

Harry tried to smile while Louis’ angry eyes gave way to a trembling chin and wavering, desperate lips.

“Why?” Louis asked in a frenzy. But it sounded like an accusation. It sounded like he was asking why Harry was ruining everything. “Why would you possibly think you could touch our stuff?”

 _Our._ As in his and Teddy’s.

With one word, one as lethal as shrapnel, Harry was pushed out of the circle.

Harry felt it like a bullet in the chest _._

Maybe, just maybe Harry was waiting for that talk all along. Maybe he unconsciously provoked it even, tired of walking on eggshells. Maybe he did it clumsily because he was running out of time.

Harry was disappointed in Louis, in himself.

How could he not be when Louis was looking at him like this, the way he did when he first found Harry camping in his woods?

How could they still be at square one, when Harry thought they meant so much more to each other? When Harry felt like they were on the edge of falling in love?

When Harry was _already there_ himself?

To add insult to injury, the closet squeaked open then, slowly, by its own accord, like a push of fate, and the sound resonated as loud as a grenade exploding.

If Harry was honest, in that moment, Louis looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown.

“What did you touch? What did you take?” Louis shouted, opening the closet wider, eyes scanning in every direction, his trembling hands moving pile after pile of clothing. “Answer me!”

“I haven’t touched anything in your precious Teddy shrine, don’t worry.” Harry spat, venom filling his voice, surprising himself with the sudden spur of jealousy, tipped over the edge, all of the bottled up frustration unleashed from his mouth at Louis before he could stop himself.

But the way that Louis looked at him? Like he was a stranger, or worse a burglar, trespassing and stealing everything around for himself, it hurt too much for Harry to hit and miss.

Louis' eyes turned that old familiar cloudy dark that Harry had come to know, come to fear almost. Harry was fucking tired of that look, of Louis’ world full of strings attached.

"I can't take it anymore, Lou! I can literally see on your face when I step over an invisible line!"

Louis’s breath caught and he turned to face Harry fully, a mess of angry stares and disgust.

“Don’t call him Teddy like you knew him. Don’t call me Lou.”

 _Don’t call me Lou like you know me,_ is what Harry heard between the lines.

"I call you Lou all the time, that’s what I call you when I make you come in this very bed.” Harry matched Louis’ tone, pointing angrily at the bed, “I call you _Lou_ and _beautiful_ and _gorgeous_ and you call me _baby_.”

Louis looked — betrayed. “No! You— No!”

“Yes!” Harry just short of roared, all the bottled up sadness and frustration exploding in Louis’ face. “That’s what _we_ do, you and me, _us_!”

For a suspended moment, they just stared at each other, heaving like they both had just run a marathon, Harry just didn’t know who had won.

Turns out no one did.

“You may like to play house, baking in our kitchen, you may sleep in his bed, you may be friends with his friends,” Louis let out a humourless laugh then, cruel and hollow, “You may even fuck his husband from time to time, but you’re not him, you hear me? You’ll never be him. You’re a guest here. Stop touching our things.”

All the air left Harry’s lungs at once, words knocking him out like a punch square to his solar plexus.

He scrambled backward, but his hip slammed into the dresser, he didn’t feel it, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t anything. He felt too cheap to argue, too hollow.

“I obviously overstayed my welcome" Harry choked out, already pushing scattered clothes into his suitcase. “I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow." Angry tears were threatening to spill, but he had some dignity left, he wasn’t about to cry now. “Maybe even tonight.”

Harry couldn’t look at Louis’ face, wouldn’t be able to handle whatever he might have found there, dare he have looked. He concentrated on picking up his shoes with trembling hands.

"Fine.” Louis said, still heaving, but his voice was small.

Nothing was fine at all.

 

  

 

The minute Harry left the house, suitcase in hand without so much as a goodbye, Louis started pacing in the kitchen like a lion in a cage and he continued doing so for a long time.

How dare he? How fucking dare Harry put his great paws all over his belongings, say all these things that weren’t true? Who did he think he was?

He had no right to ferret through his attic and bring out the Christmas decorations that had been collecting dust for years. They were Teddy’s things, he was the one bringing the holiday spirit into their home come December as an early birthday present.

Louis loved Christmas. That might be the only true thing Harry had said.

At least Louis used to.

He would spend a lot of time scouting for the perfect tree before bringing it home with Jasper, then Teddy would wobble on the ladder for hours, hanging the ornaments, but he always would leave the honors of putting up the bright star to Louis. Then they would plug in the lights together, bathing the living room with bright red and blue, before pinning the stockings above the fireplace next, one smaller than the other (Teddy found that hilarious).

Christmas carols were Teddy’s specialty. Each night, he would fill the house with music, his calloused fingers strumming at one of his beloved guitars relentlessly, as Louis would sing along beside the piano.

It was their tradition from the first year the house was built, to host Christmas for both their families; so that Louis’ birthday would be spent surrounded by his loved ones, eggnog in one hand and gingerbread in the other.

Speaking of — the smell of the gingerbread Harry had been baking still hung in the air, thick and cloying, begging for attention.

Louis wanted to tear the oven from the wall and throw it deep into the middle of the woods.

A fresh wave of anger washed over Louis as he dumped the whole load of gingerbread in the trash, then put the entire bin outside, then opened the kitchen windows to air out the room, despite the freezing cold outside.

How fucking dare Harry? What the fuck went going on in his head? Like what he already did wasn’t enough?

He already knew it, but apparently his mind had chosen to forget about it for a while — due to the mind blowing sex Louis was sure — but Harry had already invaded every part of Louis’ life insidiously.

It was like a hurricane had gone through the house, but not your typical one, a quiet hurricane, the kind that just shook the furniture a tiny bit but you still ended up bumping your toes on chairs that weren’t there before.

Looking around now, even as Harry had supposedly left for good, there were still traces of him _everywhere._ His toothbrush was still in the bathroom, his favorite rainbow mug, still soaking in the kitchen sink. His tools and the furniture he had started to build (a rocking chair and a coffee table) were still in the barn, guarded by an unperturbed Jasper.

Harry’s freaking car was still parked outside and Louis couldn’t for the life of him figure out where Harry had gone and how he’d gotten there, the prints of his footsteps long buried under a thick layer of fresh snow.

It was getting dark and snow was falling heavily again, the landscape already stained in white. Soon, the brutal unforgiving wind would be cutting right through gloves and trousers alike.

And where the hell was Harry?

_What if Harry foolishly went to the woods on a whim? What if he was lost? What if he froze to death?_

Louis wouldn’t be the one leading the search party for his sorry ass. He wouldn’t be.

 _Was he wearing snow boots? Louis couldn’t remember. What if he left without a scarf?_                   

Louis sighed heavily, feeling all the fight leave him at once.

He slipped into his boots and grabbed a flashlight, cursing under his breath at every God above, as he headed out into the night.

Stupid Harry, stupid dimples, stupid feelings, _stupid, stupid, stupid._       

Two hours later, Louis would not admit to getting worried, even to himself, even as his knuckles had turned blue from the cold, even as he grabbed his phone and called for reinforcement with numb, shaky fingers.

  
  

 

Harry was drunk.

Harry was drunk and he felt the world was hanging on his shoulders, the conversation he’d had with Louis still playing in his mind; words ricocheting against the walls of his skull like bullets.

He had called Niall as soon as he’d left the house, hands trembling too much to even consider taking the wheel of his car. It was parked for so long Harry doubted it would even start, let alone lead him anywhere anyway.

He had walked out of the house too mad to meet Louis’ eyes and up to the main road, too wired to stay put, too sad to form a coherent thought.

Now they were at Susette’s, downing what was Harry’s seventh CC in two hours. Or was it his eighth?

Niall had put two and two together as soon as Harry had talked about Christmas, gathering that the smell of gingerbread must have triggered Louis’ memories of days long past.

That, coupled with Harry looking for things to sell in the house, was the tipping point. No wonder he threw a fit, Niall had said.

Harry had learned the hard way.

Harry had told him about the fight that ensued, even though he left out some important bits, like their intimacy, because he didn’t think Louis would be too keen on that and right now he felt too foolish to even mention it.  

“You know I’m a little disappointed.” Niall had said, calling over the waitress.

“Why?” Harry had answered, cheek resting on his forearm, sulking. He really needed that drink.

“Well I really thought you’d rub off on him for one, we were finally getting somewhere with the piano and all, but it looks like it happened the other way around. I’ve never seen you sulking like this.”

Harry had sat up at that.

“Hey, I tried.” Harry had said, feeling the little fight that was left in him come back. “But apparently _you_ can push and push without any consequences, but I can’t.”

Niall had hummed, smile a little sad. “It’s different. I’m his family, Harry. Teddy was my brother, Louis’ known me his whole life. And you’re leaving in what? A month?”

Harry didn’t know if Niall meant it that way, but the last part sure sounded like an accusation.

“Two weeks.” Harry had answered somberly, counting out the days in his head. “My contract ends the 22nd, the day after the formal. And I’m spending Christmas with my mom. I’ll be gone on the 23rd.”

“And after that? You have anything lined up?”

“I have a friend in Jamaica, scuba diver, she offered me a job.”

Niall stayed silent for a while, staring at his drink. Harry was having a lot of trouble reading him, even though it seemed like Niall had a lot to say.

“It seems like you have it all planned out then. Winter in Jamaica. Nice.” Niall didn’t look like he was happy about it. That would make two of them. “You could use a little sun, you look a bit grey.” Harry would rather spend his winter snowed in and snuggled in the arms of a stubborn lumberjack, being sunburned by his blinding smile, but it didn’t seem like that was in the cards anymore. “Or you could stay, you know?” Niall added, eyes boring into Harry, testing. “For good.”

For a brief second there Harry had thought Niall knew about what had been going on behind the scenes between Louis and him.

“Mrs. Paulson is coming back from maternity leave.” Harry squinted, testing the waters, “And I don’t think being principal is my calling anyway.”

It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t considered it, far from it. Truth be told, he would stay in a heartbeat if Louis asked him to, at least until they could figure something out. but as of now, Harry was homeless and would be jobless soon, so it’s not like he had any other choice, did he?

Up until now, Harry had never stayed anywhere for long anyway, had never wanted to either. He’d always been happy to try as many things as possible, naturally gifted but never deepening any skills, waiting for something to catch his attention for more than a fleeting moment.

That thing was apparently an emotionally unavailable lumberjack with baggage. How unfortunate.

He would stay and then what? Fall even deeper than he had for a man who was still hung up on someone Harry would never be able to measure up to ever? No thanks.

Harry and Niall hadn’t talked much about anything of substance after that. Choosing to drink in companionable silence interrupted by occasional small talk.

Well, Harry drank, Niall, was relatively sober, come to think of it.

When Niall’s phone rang, between drink seven and drink eight, he didn’t seem half as surprised as Harry was when it turned out Louis was actually out looking for him.

“He’s with me, he’s fine.” Niall said right away, raising his eyebrows at Harry like he was resting his case, even though Harry had zero clue what the case was about. “Yes, you can call off the mounted police search party.”

Harry’s mouth went slack.

He— Louis actually called the police because he was worried about Harry?

There it was, the flicker of hope rekindled back to life.

“He’s coming here.” Niall said after he hung up and tossed his phone aside, then stared at him for a long time, like he wanted to ask something but never did. Harry began to feel naked under the scrutiny.

He was definitely too drunk for this.

  
  

 

“Here’s the bitter, old, grumpy man I know and love.” Niall said, not unkindly, upon Louis’ arrival at Susette’s.

“I’m not that old.” Louis replied, discarding his coat and dusting off the snow caught in his fringe.

“The fact that you don’t deny the rest though.” Niall laughed good naturedly but Louis wasn’t in the mood to laugh along, busy subtly looking around for Harry.

Niall answered his silent question. “He’s in the toilet.” Niall filled in, frowning in the direction of the back of the bar, “he’s been there a while. He’s piss drunk, I hope he didn’t fall asleep in there.”

Louis sighed a frustrated groan, hopefully inaudible with the musical background. With Louis’ luck, he would be stuck cleaning vomit in a bathroom stall for the better part of the night.

He didn’t have to grumble about it for long, as Harry came out of the back, jostling into customers and apologizing profusely at each one, knocking their drinks as he did so. A complete mess.

“A piece of advice,” Niall whispered in Louis’ ear, a firm hand curling around Louis’ shoulder, “he may read you well, but he’s not psychic. So how about you start verbalizing the stuff that ticks you off?”

Louis’ eyes darted to the side, searching Niall’s sharp gaze.

“He’s not supposed to know what today is.” The corners of Niall’s eyes matched the curve of his sad smile.

Louis’ jaw clenched as he drew in a breath.  “Did you tell him?”

“No, but for what it’s worth, I think you should.”

Louis’ gaze drifted to Harry again, who was now trying to wipe the beer soaked coat of a woman with a tiny cocktail napkin.

Even from a distance, Louis could guess Harry’s words were slurred and senseless, if the women unimpressed stare was any indication.

“Like he’s in any shape to talk.” Louis dismissed, having no intention to talk, but finding solace in trying to convince Niall he would, if Harry was sober.

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“Mmmh.” Louis hummed noncommittally. “Or the day after that.” Or the day after that.

“You’re running out of days.” Nall’s whole face hardened, his eyes blazing with sharpness, “He’s leaving on the 23rd.”

All of a sudden, Louis grew restless. “There’s no point then, is there?” Louis’ eyes narrowed, he was incapable of identifying the sentiment that started to grow in his chest at the news.

It was not like he didn’t know Harry would soon be gone for good. But now that there was an actual, real, definitive date, it felt like a clock had started ticking backwards in his head, and that spurred another wave of anger inside of him.

Harry was going to leave. Another person he cared about was going to leave. Everyone left him at some point. His parents, his siblings, his in laws, even his fucking husband. He should be used to it by now.

And he felt equally furious, relieved, and desperate about Harry’s departure.

It didn’t make any sense. Any sense at all. That was exactly what he’d wanted all along, since the first time he’d stumbled upon that half naked, awkward man in the middle of his woods, the same one that had now noticed him and was bambi’ing his way towards him.

And Louis wanted to go to him, meet him halfway, but he couldn’t move, his feet were glued to the floor. He wanted to hold him and scream at him, soothe him and apologise for any hurt that he had ever encountered because of him, too.

He couldn’t though, because he couldn't move, and also because Harry was staring daggers at him. Finally, he seemed to muster just the right combination of accumulated anger and tacit frustration to come to Louis and point an accusing finger square in the middle of his sternum.

“You!” Harry growled. He looked about as menacing as an angry kitten wrestling with a ball of wool. "I'm a laid-back guy, Louis, but you keep pushing and pushing and pushing all my buttons." drunk Harry said, and then it was as if all the fight had left him, his broad shoulders sagging. "Fuck.”

"You got Harry all bent out of shape, Lou.” Niall snickered, tone somewhere between mocking and judgmental. Fuck him. Louis had enough on his plate already.  

Harry nodded frantically in agreement. “God, why are you so pretty? How can something so cranky be so pretty? Fucking rude is what it is." Harry raised his voice again, punctuating his words with a hard drum of his finger into Louis shoulder, which earned him a cackle from Niall.            

"You're not cute. Stop it. You’re causing a scene." Louis said as he caught Harry’s finger with his hand, clasping firmly so Harry wouldn’t molest him again.

“Once you vomited all over the pool table over there.” Niall offered, unhelpfully, “I think Harry has a long way to catch up to your diva ways.”

“Shut up.” Why was Niall like this? Why was Harry like this? Why did the universe hate Louis so fucking much? Why?

Louis was a good man. Paid his bills on time, donated to charities, called his mother once a week, and his sisters twice as much. Why was he stuck with the Muppet show right now, when he was ready to go home and sleep for twelve hours.

Hell, he was just starting to regain sensations in his limbs after searching for Harry for two hours in the woods, when he was here the whole time, _drinking_. Warm.

“Why don’t you like me, Lou?” Harry asked helplessly, and it looked like Niall was seconds away from ordering popcorn. "I'm nice. I'm a catch. I'm—  tell him Niall!"

"Damn right, boss!” Niall encouraged, and Louis wanted to knock his teeth out. “He really is a catch. Nice ass too, you'd notice if you got your head out of yours long enough." 

“Get lost, Niall.” Louis said, with feeling.

“Are you joking? This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

"Harry, we're leaving." Louis looked around for Harry’s coat, finding it in the booth behind him, and draping it over Harry’s shoulders.  "Come on, get in the truck."

"No!” Harry scowled, shrugging his coat off so it fell on the floor.                   

Louis grit his teeth, picking the coat up. "Get in the fucking truck."                                       

"I'm dooone doing what you tell me to do Lou-eh." Harry slurred, looking rather proud of himself. Louis would take him more seriously if he hadn’t stumbled and fallen into his arms right after that declaration.

"Yeah yeah, right.” Louis faux soothed, holding him upright and straightening his shirt in the process. “You’re your own man, now get in the truck.”

"Say I'm pretty first. I’m very nice you know? Ask anyone.”

Louis didn’t point out that the lady with her ruined coat would probably beg to differ. He was compelled to laugh. “What does that have to do with anything!”

“Just say it.”

“Yeah, say it, Louis.” Niall encouraged, from beside him and this time Louis kicked him in the shin.

“You're pretty,” Louis gritted out. “There. I said it. Happy now? Can we leave?"    

"Say I have a nice bum." Harry said, but it was evident he was pleased and repressing a smile now.

"Don't push your luck." Louis answered, gently coaxing Harry towards the front door and flashing the middle finger to a still-laughing Niall on their way out.

He manoeuvred Harry into the truck, fastened his seatbelt for him after watching Harry struggle with it for a full minute, then started the engine.

Harry was asleep before Louis hit the first turn.

Once he parked in front of the house, Louis had all the trouble in the world waking him up, even contemplating leaving him there to sleep it off, then remembering he didn’t go through all this trouble to let Harry freeze to death, and tried again and again, until Harry stirred awake.

He held Harry’s limp hair back when he emptied his stomach on the side of the house, Louis drawing soothing circles into his back, while Harry heaved and shook.

He pulled Harry up, wiped his chin with the back of his sleeve, thumbed at the wetness at the corners of his eyes, before pushing him inside, where the air wasn't about to give them frostbite.

He forced Harry to down half a bottle of water in the kitchen, before helping him into the living room and out of his clothes, boxers included, tucked him under his favorite blanket on the couch. He wasn’t about to risk Harry breaking his neck on the stairs in his state.

Harry stank of booze and vomit and bar, his sweaty hair clung to the side of his face and over the couch pillows, but he still looked so lovely. Louis wondered if he should tell Harry so once in a while.

He tucked one of the long strands behind Harry’s ear.

If Louis wasn’t careful he would cross a line there, the way Harry was looking at him now — Like Louis hung the moon and could catch the stars. Louis could get lost in that look, had in the past. He caught the star and it burned a hole in his hand.

“You know, you always complain about all the space I take,” Harry said, cutting through Louis’ thoughts. He was a little more coherent now than he had been for the last hour. His smile was small and sad, but his eyes — they told the same story as before, even as they were beginning to well up, “but I don't even have a inch that's mine, here. I don't dare even move the couch though my neck hurts when we watch TV, did you know?”

Louis froze.

"You keep saying I invaded your life but you know what? It’s a lie.” Harry pushed on, his eyelids beginning to droop. “There was never room for me here. Ed is everywhere. From your walls to your heart."

That was the thing though. Maybe Harry was right.

But he had his reasons, very good, very logical reasons. Louis couldn’t let himself want Harry, couldn’t let himself need him either. It would be catastrophic. If Louis let it, Harry would be well on his way to have his clothes in Teddy’s closet, and Louis couldn’t have that, couldn’t have his husband replaced with a fleeting attraction that would be gone in two weeks. Teddy deserved better than that.

Louis’ head was spinning.

“We’ll figure this out, Lou, won’t we?” Harry asked, eyes already shut closed.

“Yes, we will.”

Louis had no idea if that was true or not, but Harry huffed out a sound between a yawn and a sigh and seemed satisfied with his answer, so Louis felt like he’d accomplished something.

Harry was home, safe and sound, and it was all that mattered.

Louis didn’t sleep well that night, trying to put a word on what exactly he saw in Harry’s eyes, tentatively recognizing it as the sun began to rise, engulfing the darkness and all of the stars.

It was love.

  
  

 

Harry first woke up the next day with a mouth that felt like it was filled with sand, and a splitting headache that made him pray for a quick, painless death. The alarm clock on his phone was blaring from the pocket of his jeans on the other side of the living room, where they lay, carelessly thrown over the arm of the leather armchair with the rest of his clothes.

“Make it stop,” he whined, sliding a too-tiny cushion over his ears, wishing that the world would fade out to nothingness, especially as he started to remember some of what happened the day before. “Fuck me.”

“Still a no.” Louis’ breath of a voice sounded amused.

Harry sat up with a jolt in his spine, too fast not to feel dizzy in his hungover state. Everything in the room was spinning but Louis was a solid shape, leaning against the frame of the door.

He looked the kind of tired that needed so much more than a good night’s sleep,  but his lips still curved into a small, drained smile, beautiful in its fragility.

“I made breakfast.” Louis said before reaching for Harry’s phone and handing it to him to turn off. Harry took it like the white flag it looked like.

As Harry stood up, the blanket fell to the floor and he realized he was as naked as the day that he was born and Louis turned away immediately, taking two longs strides away from him in the direction of the kitchen.

Harry shook his head, like a dog would after a bath, trying to get rid of some the tiredness and the futile tangle of conflicting thoughts hanging out there as well. He looked around for something to wear that wasn’t vomit stained.

“Don’t look for your suitcase, it’s back in your room." Louis said, his profile to Harry, staring at an invisible spot on the wall.

"You mean the room that’s not mine because this is not my house?" Harry couldn’t help but bite, draping the blanket around his waist.

Louis had the decency to flush and look down, subdued in a way he rarely was. "It’s in your room," he repeated, and it sounded like an apology. “Take a shower then come down and eat something.” When Harry didn’t move for several beats, Louis added, “ _Please._ ”

Despite the unresolved tension, Harry complied.

In the shower, he went over the cold sweep of memories from the night before. The only thing remaining was the lingering feeling of unfinished business mixed with embarrassment.

Once he felt a little more fresh, he went down and Louis pushed a greasy omelette in front of him, as well as two Advils and a tall glass of water.

Harry muttered his thanks and munched his way slowly through the eggs, under Louis’ careful scrutiny, trying very hard to keep the nausea at bay. There was still a 50% chance he was going to get sick.

"Did I embarrass myself last night?" Harry chuckled through the deafening silence.

“Not at all.” Louis dismissed, he was still a little stiff but his smile wasn’t unkind.

Harry nodded briefly, not entirely convinced.

“Listen, I want to tell you something. I need you to like — know it, but I don’t really want to talk about it, if that makes sense, do you think you can handle that?”

Harry tensed up right away, not knowing if he was supposed to keep a secret or if this was another ploy to keep Harry quiet and shelve any feelings he might have over their situation.

Turns out it was none of that.

“Yesterday was our— um, my— my wedding anniversary.” The confession looked like it was ripped out of him.

“Oh.” Harry gasped, as he began to connect the dots, recalling some of the hurtful things they exchanged in a blind knee-jerk reaction the day before. It all made a whole lot more sense now, in context. Louis must have felt like Harry was carelessly poking at his wounds even though Harry had no idea at all.

“Yes. So, um— so I’m sorry I, like— overreacted and mistreated you because of that, I—”  Louis exhaled, inflating his cheeks, frustrated. “You’re welcome to stay here. I want you to, okay? I’m just— Whatever we were doing, it has to stop, okay? I— It _needs_ to stop.”

It looked like Louis was begging, but Harry didn’t know if Louis was trying to convince Harry or himself. It made little difference anyway, Louis had prefaced that that wasn’t up for debate, and he was abundantly clear about what he wanted.

Harry looked up, meeting Louis’ helpless eyes.

Harry hated this, absolutely hated everything about that idea, even though all his instincts were screaming at him to get the fuck out of there as fast as he could, because being close to Louis without actually being able to touch him felt comparable to torture. It was like every bit of closeness they ever had was ripped away with those four words and that left him grasping at straws.

He still acquiesced.

Harry tried to rationalize it. He had nowhere else to go for one, he would leave in a few days for good anyway, he had a lot of things to take care of right now for work, and he didn’t need to add moving on top of that list.

Harry knew the real reasons though. He wasn’t ready to let go. He still hung on to hope. Even now, even with everything Louis had just said, Harry still hoped. Because Louis opened up to him, which was new. Because Louis took care of him, worried about him, searched for him, brought him home and yes, he recalled it now, Louis held his hair while Harry puked his guts out. That wasn't the doing of someone who didn’t care, no way.

Yet, with his slacked shoulders and his trembling lips, Louis never looked so worn down and so unsure.

“Do you need to go to the woods?” Harry asked then. He would offer some other comforting methods, but it seemed like this one was the one Louis needed right now.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to come with?” Harry offered tentatively.

He gave out a relieved gasp. “Yes.”

Louis looked better with every step they took into the forest, both wrapped in warm gear and carrying the equipment they would need. The weather wasn’t that disastrous for once, it wasn’t snowing and there was no wind but there was still a thick layer of snow, remnants from the night before that rendered their movements slow and laboured.

Harry had offered to bring Jasper because it looked like Louis needed the extra leg up only the horse was capable of giving.

Harry had been the one to prep and blanket him, rather proud of how he learned to tame the giant beast so quickly, all things considered.

They hit a new spot Louis had never shown Harry before and Louis started to scout for his tree right away, Harry choosing to sit on a tree stump, the glare of the sun on the snow making the aching in his skull more prominent.

“I will never drink again.” He swore to the universe, arms rested over his knees, and head buried in the crook of his elbow.

His plea was answered by Louis starting the chainsaw and laughing loudly as Harry scowled at him.

“Something to say, Styles?”

“I hate you.” Harry grunted.

It seemed like their banter made Louis feel better, some colour returning to his face. It could have been because of the cold, but Harry was certain it wasn’t.

He stopped with the noise fairly soon after, choosing to resort to his most common tool, his dependable axe, once the tree was on the ground.

“Do you want some help?” Harry offered, even though, he felt like his insides wanted out, nausea still painfully present. He needed a nap and a hug and his bed, sleeping on the couch really did a number on his back.

“Nah.” Louis smiled, “You can just sit there and look pretty if you want, you seem like you need it.”

“Aha! See? You find me pretty!” Harry exclaimed, standing up and regretting it instantly.

A beat passed and Louis lowered his axe, tipping his head to the side. “I find you lovely.”

Harry wanted to die again, for a whole other reason. Louis found him lovely. Louis found him _lovely_. Something fluttered in his stomach that had nothing to do with nausea.

Instead of leaving once the tree was chopped into logs, Louis sat beside Harry, took a long drink of water from a plastic flask, and then handed it over, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“Drink up. You look green and dehydrated.” Louis’ hand was surprisingly warm when it touched the side of Harry’s face and it lingered there for a tad too long not to be significant.

Why was Louis so confusing? Why was he rejecting Harry with his words and telling a whole other story with his hands? Why must he blow hot and cold all the time?

And more importantly why the hell was Harry so easy for it, when he knew, _he knew_ that it wasn’t enough, that it was leading nowhere, and that there was no happy ending in sight?

The answer was nagging at his insides, striking in its simplicity, taking advantage of his vulnerable state. He was in love with Louis. And he hated the fact that the feeling could mess with his mind so easily.

Harry wasn’t supposed to fall for him. They were supposed to be roommates, maybe friends. The first time Harry had offered sex, it wasn’t at all what he thought it would turn into. He didn’t know how much he’d like it, would like _him_ , how quickly he would get addicted to the flavor of Louis’ skin.

Once he got a taste, he was done for. Game over. Harry’s shop was closed for business.

He had been in love before, but those flings were luke warm water where what he felt with Louis was a burning forest fire, radiating heat and passion, devouring everything in its path.

But like any fire, it had the power to turn everything to ash.

Being in love was supposed to be just Harry and Louis and nothing in between, but there was always Ed, so much so that Harry was made to feel like the mistress, like a dirty secret. No wonder Harry had reservations.

If Harry had to face the facts, he was jealous and hated himself for it. There was no rationalising how shameful he felt over that something green curled up in his stomach. And it had only grown stronger as his feelings for Louis had increased.

“Do you want to get back? You could nap.” Louis’ voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, voice tired and small.

“Do you feel better?” Harry’s asked, in lieu of an answer, because in the end it was all that mattered, that must be love, right? Fuck.

“Yes, thank you.” A beat of silence passed. “Do you?”

 _No_. “Yeah.”

Harry lied. Nothing about the limbo surrounding their relationship made him feel better, and Louis well knew that cutting trees wasn’t really his thing anyway. His thing included closeness and cuddles and touching and kisses. Taking care of someone and being taken care of in return.

In the end Harry only wanted to make Louis happy. The thing was, it seemed like an impossible task sometimes.

                                  

  

 

Music.

Between asleep and awake, curled up in a ball, Harry had trouble making out the sound coming from downstairs at first, between the humming of the wind outside, and the fogginess of his sleepy brain. Plus, Harry was really way too tired for it all to sink in, but it was unmistakable now.

There was music in the house.

There was music in a house where music had been somewhat banned for years, according to Niall.

The sound alone, foreign in its oddity, made Harry sit up in the sheets and his heart pound loudly in his chest.

Even played with clumsy, rusty fingers, over the strings of a guitar, the melody was familiar, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly it was yet. And then he heard it, the most beautiful sound in the entire world, Louis’ soft rasp of a voice, resonating into the night.

[ _Blackbird_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8ac3tEltTU) _singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

His voice was smooth and quiet but also soothing in a way, everything Louis, himself, wasn’t at first glance. And yet it was powerful, and Harry wondered how someone could achieve all of that at once.

There was an edge of insolence in the timbre of his voice, something adolescent and juvenile and Harry could see clearly the remnants of a boy he never knew and but had heard so much about.

A glimpse of the past that also felt like the promise of a tomorrow.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_

_Blackbird fly, blackbird fly_

_Into the light of the dark black night_

Harry drew in a short, ragged breath as he noticed one of Ed’s guitars was missing from the opposite wall of his room. He sat and stared at the guitar-shaped space delineated by years of dust that had settled around the unused instrument.

Louis had taken Teddy’s guitar down. Louis was _playing_ Teddy’s guitar.

As Harry tiptoed his way downstairs, a hand balled up against his throbbing heart, Louis’ voice carried through the hallways in sorrowful waves. His voice grew stronger with each verse, swells of power rose up as he sang, and his hands sounded more steady as the music grew louder, like he was getting acquainted with the instruments again— both the guitar and his own vocal cords.

Why did he sing that song of all songs? A song about a resilient bird who’s been offered broken wings and hollow eyes but still wanted to fly? Was it a reach to think it was about Harry who Louis often called a singing bird?

It was bound to mean _something_ , right? First the piano, now this? Harry felt like he was losing his mind, trying to navigate the Byzantine nature of Louis’ psyche, especially after the last few days of push and pull.

And what if it didn’t mean anything at all?

As Louis belted out the final notes, Harry got a glimpse of him, hidden in the shadows.  When he put the guitar down, he looked every bit of that rough, gruff, and callous man Harry loved, mixed with the softer, vulnerable, more honest version of himself Harry got a glimpse of sometimes. He looked sad, yet resolute, jaw clenching with no trace of tears in his eyes.

Unnoticed, Harry went back to his room with his heart beating like it had nothing to lose.

  
  

 

The rummage sale was held on City Hall grounds thanks to Casey who negotiated that the town loaned it for free through one of her contacts. That was just the type of thing you could do in a small town like Abateemat, and that woman was notably resourceful, so Harry wasn’t surprised when she triumphantly handed him the deal a few weeks ago.

In Harry’s humble opinion, she would make a wonderful principal, given the chance.

It was a very good decision (with City Hall situated downtown) as it drew a lot more traffic than the school would have for such a dinky event.

Louis had dropped him off early in the morning, then helped him unload all the stuff he had generously donated to Harry for the sale (if most of it was what got Louis mad at him three days ago, Harry wasn’t about to point it out). Harry hadn’t had the chance to sit down for a minute since he first came in, running around with a clipboard in his hand and a pencil in his hair in lieu of a hair tie to keep his now too long, sweaty curls from falling in front of his eyes.

There simply had been too much to do, between helping the sellers find their tables (mostly parents that Harry had already met before), and helping the kids hang their banners, and set up food and beverages stalls around the venue. Niall had the brilliant idea to rent a bouncy house and that alone pulled a lot of visitors their way, the parents wandering around buying stuff while the kids were under Liam’s or Zayn’s surveillance.

The whole thing would halfway resemble a carnival at this point, a colourful ensemble of stalls and crowd, if it wasn’t for all the books, used toys, and second hand clothes scattered on every seller’s table.

By noon, the event was a massive success and they had already surpassed their money goal. Harry was already thinking about whether he could squeeze in new equipment for Niall’s marching band before the end of his contract without Casey throwing a fit.

In the afternoon, Harry was debating with Niall and Zayn whether they should move some of the booths so the little ones would have more room to play when he was startled by Louis’ return, Louis himself making his presence known by stroking Harry’s hand with[ the back of his index finger](https://78.media.tumblr.com/92cc9962e4ec9dcb8890486314959d19/tumblr_mpwfxfSkSf1rsdq4ro1_400.gif).

“Hey,” he rasped, close and familiar. He smelled heavenly, like freshly cut timber and damp forest after a rainy day.

Okay Harry was so so so gone for him and so so so screwed.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, feeling every bit of the fond smile that was growing on his face. He couldn’t help it, Louis was looking particularly lovely and soft today, with his [ fleece Naparijri beige sweater ](http://files.starstyleman.com/uploads/louis-tomlinson/11708.jpg) and his light blue jeans, hugging his exquisite thighs and truly amazing ass.

Louis hadn’t trimmed his beard since Harry took care of his scruff and there was snow stuck there, peppering the[ soft reddish hair ](https://imageresizer.static9.net.au/hQ4elnOAA4HJM9ichIz1POUSg4M=/636x0/http%3A%2F%2Fprod.static9.net.au%2F_%2Fmedia%2F2017%2F12%2F13%2F06%2F37%2FLouisTomlinsonfix131217_2.jpg) with white.

Instead of hanging loosely by his side, like Louis’ were, Harry’s hands were curled around the hem of his sleeves, so he wouldn’t reach out, skin still tingling from the small contact.

Harry wanted to kiss the living hell out of him. Let every flake melt on the tip of his tongue while he ravished Louis’ lips and neck, let Louis rub his beard on every part of his tender skin, that’s what Harry wanted to do.

Not sell second hand goods to stupid people bargaining for small change.

“Louis, you won’t believe how much Silvia paid for the coffee table Harry made.” Niall squealed through Harry’s thoughts, bouncing in excitement beside him.

Harry felt the blush touch the top of his ears, smiling bashfully. “Stop it.”

“200 dollars! Can you believe?” Zayn answered in his place.

Louis whistled, looking genuinely impressed.  “Wow!”

“She thinks she can sell it for twice as that, too!” Niall added, tapping his hand over Harry’s back, like a proud father. Silvia owned a furniture shop further down the road and anyone who could afford anything other than Ikea furnished their house there. “Said Harry should consider making a career out of it. He’s _that_ good.”

If Louis noticed Niall’s pointed look following the sentence, he didn’t say anything about it. Louis was looking straight at Harry, nodding along, a small smile curling up at the corners of his lips, looking every bit as proud of Harry as Niall was.

“I have no doubts about it, he’s immensely talented. He can do anything he wants if he puts his mind to it.”

Harry’s knees melted into a puddle on the floor. His heart swelled, his chest suddenly felt too small to keep it all inside.

Louis cleared his throat, as Zayn and Niall scampered away, back to taking care of the logistics.

“Er, listen—  I have something to donate, uhm, if you want.”

“Sure.” At first Harry frowned at Louis’ sudden change of demeanor and then he noticed the guitar case at Louis’ feet, it wasn’t even hidden, Harry had just been too distracted by Louis’ presence to register anything else in his vicinity. (Again, so screwed.)

Awkwardly, Louis reached down for it, pulled it up and and brought it to the closest empty table. Harry went to the other side of it so he could have a better look.

It was the same guitar Louis had played the night before, Teddy’s, the one missing from the wall.

“I thought you could use a guitar.” Louis said, opening the worn out guitar case, covered in odd doodles and stickers, looking like it had seen better days. “It’s a Martin. she’s a good one, maple wood, warmest sound. I think you could get at least $200 out of it.”

Count on a lumberjack to talk about the wood a guitar was made out of as a selling point to someone who’d never played one.

“I changed the strings and tuned it, it’s as good as new.” Louis said as he dragged his thumb over the little engraved math symbol there, lingering.

It was so much. Maybe it was too much.

“Louis— ”

“Hey, it’s the least worn out thing I own.” Louis chuckled, his laugh was a little hollow but his smile appeared genuine. “Pick you up at seven, okay?”

He leaned over the table, his smile still present and for a brief foolish second, Harry thought Louis was about to kiss him in front of everyone. Instead, he snatched the pencil that was holding Harry’s hair back, his curls cascading freely over his shoulders.

“Stop stealing my things.” Louis winked. There was zero evidence the pencil was Louis’ which could only mean Louis was openly flirting with him, “I like it better when you have your hair down anyway.”

Harry would flirt back, if he could actually form words. It was familiar to him now, this feeling of being speechless. Fighting, flirting, who could tell anymore? Louis just seemed to enjoy dancing circles around him until he couldn't tell his head from his heels.

Louis was gone before Harry could say another word.

Harry barely had time to catch his breath, let alone close the guitar case, before Niall materialized beside him.

“Waw, this is big. This is— Waw. you know how big this is for him, right?”

It all felt important and significant, and yes, it fueled that flicker of hope that was there inside his heart like nothing else. But if Harry knew anything, it’s that it wasn’t the first time something like that happened, and it wasn’t the first time he’d read too much into it either. 

"He must really like you." Niall insisted, once he realized Harry wasn’t going to comment himself.

"He can be very sweet when he wants to be,” Harry answered, carefully.

“Sw— “ Niall scowled. “Do you know what the symbols on Teddy’s guitars even mean? Did he not tell you?”

“No.” Harry frowned too, matching Niall’s expression, but now it felt like Niall’s irritation had shifted to Louis instead of him.

“Fuck it,” Niall swore under his breath. Something about stupid emotionally constipated assholes, and that confirmed Harry was right being careful with his heart, “For every major event in his life, Teddy bought a guitar, and he engraved little math symbols on them. You know how much Louis loved him, but I’m not sure you know how much Teddy loved Louis right back. Hell, I’m not sure he knows it himself. Anyway.” Niall dragged a tired hand over his face. “ ‘+’ is for when they got together, ‘-’ is for when he went to college and lived without Louis, ‘÷’ is for when they hit a rough patch in their relationship. You know they broke up at some point? It was before they got married.”

Harry shook his head, of course he didn’t know, Louis didn’t tell him anything, ever, not when it came to _Teddy,_  Harry thought, bitterly.

“Somehow Louis was convinced he was holding Teddy back, can you imagine?” It sounded like a loaded question, Niall studying him as he asked the question, his eyes boring into Harry’s. “That’s the type of guy he is. Because he lives a simple life, and likes it that way, sometimes he thinks it’s not enough for some people. Sometimes he even gets convinced people would be better off, doing greater things, without him holding them back.”

A beat of silence passed and that was one Harry didn’t want to fill for once. It felt like a minefield where he couldn’t put one foot down without being turned into chunks.

Harry’s eyes drifted to the guitar again, where a multiply sign was engraved.

“What does the “x” stand for?”

“It’s was his last guitar. He got it when they decided to start a family just before he passed.”

“Shit.” Harry let out a whine, a little overwhelmed by all this information. “Do you think it means he thinks kids are not in the cards for him anymore?”

“I have no fucking clue, man.”

Harry didn’t have a clue either. A few minutes ago Harry thought Louis was flirting with him. Now he didn’t know anymore. There were just anxious conflicting feelings left in the pit of his stomach. It was progress, although every progress with Louis felt like moving a mountain a centimeter at a time; it was important and rewarding, but it was an infuriatingly slow, dragged out process.

And Harry was running out of time.

 

  

 

When Louis came back to pick him up at seven on the dot, Harry was still packing up the remnants of the day with the last of the volunteers.

“Did you not manage to sell it?” Louis asked upon arriving, puzzled, seeing the guitar case in the same spot he’d left it.

“No, no, uhm, it sold. I bought it.” Harry explained, bashfully. He felt a little insecure about it all, even if he’d followed his instinct when he made the decision. It simply didn’t feel right that something so personal to Louis would belong to a stranger (he pushed away the idea that Louis might think of _him_ as a stranger — Louis didn’t mean that, he didn’t.)

Louis gaped, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“For what it’s worth, I really appreciate the gesture, you have no idea how much. I bought it, it’s mine.” It was not Teddy’s guitar anymore, was what he didn’t say. “It’s mine and I’m giving it to you, Louis.” Harry said as he handed the guitar case back. “So now it’s yours, you can choose to put it back on the wall or to play it. Your choice.”

The words were charged with double meaning, even if Harry tried to keep his words as neutral as possible.

The corners of Harry’s mouth curled up in a soft, hopeful smile.

When they came home, Louis didn’t play the guitar — but he didn’t put it back on the wall either.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you holding up? Are you still with me? Have you decided that you would read that Teddy/Louis prequel I’m dying to write already? Or are you ready for the will they/won’t they to end for Harry and Louis?


	11. Chapter 11

**thaw**

**θɔː/**

**_verb_ **

 

  * ****(of ice, snow, or another frozen substance, such as food) become liquid or soft as a result of warming up.****



 

It was hard not to count down the days before his leaving.

Five days. Harry would be out of Louis’ life in five short days. It felt like time ran faster now that the deadline was almost there.

Harry stopped stalling about starting to gather his things at some point that morning and he didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not, but Louis went out with his axe the minute Harry began to sort through his and Louis’ coats and jackets hanging in the entryway.

He still had some time left, but with the winter formal in three days and everything to wrap up at school, he thought it better to have a head start on the personal packing front.

There were piles of stuff scattered throughout his room as well as in the living and dining rooms. Clothes and books and mementos, figurines and note books and that wasn’t even counting his tools or the leftover furniture he’d started to build in the barn.

And to think he only had one suitcase when he first came here.

He didn’t realize how many odds and ends he’d ended up collecting.

It was the first time Harry had nested that much during one of his temp assignments.

His limbs felt heavy as he sorted through what he was going to donate (like his winter clothes), what he was taking with him (barely anything, he travelled light) and what he would leave behind, (like his books, his dvds, or oh minor detail — his whole heart).

In the end, what he was going to take with him all fit in one single suitcase, same as when he first came to live with Louis, and that was more depressing than anything else.

  


  

 

The day of the dance was even busier for Harry than the rest of the week had been, which was just as well, he didn’t want to be left alone with his gloomy thoughts for too long anyway.

Louis had been jittery all week. He didn’t snap at Harry or anything, in fact he was especially attentive to him: offering his help to set everything up for the formal and driving him around for any last minute shopping.

Still, Louis was restless. And so was Harry, stress getting the best of him. Harry knew at least one way to deal with that —  like off the top of his head, fuck Louis until he cried — but he didn’t think Louis was up for it at the moment, sadly.

Had Harry known their last time together would be their actual last time, he would have made it count, he would have made it last for hours.

Now it felt like there was unfinished business between them, a mix of sexual frustration and plain old frustration making Harry’s skin feel too tight and his head feel too crowded.

Right now, Harry was trying to find a way to help Sea, Anitra, and Lissie, the seniors in charge of the decorations, to hang the oversized disco ball Harry had managed to sneak into the budget under Casey’s nose.

Harry was purposefully ignoring her scowl. If she only knew what was in store for her tonight. That’s another thing he would have to do without her noticing. One more stressful thing to add to the pile.

He actually wasn’t thinking about sex for once, he simply had too much to do, between Christmas and moving and the formal and the _feelings_? The stress was eating at him, making his hands shaky and his legs wobbly.

That was a problem seeing that he was currently standing on a ladder and neither Louis, nor Niall, Zayn, nor Liam for that matter, were around to give a much needed helping hand.

Where the hell were they?

“Gina!” Harry shouted, in the direction of one of the students setting up the bar, “Go fetch me Louis, please, tell him I need him.”

“Which one is Louis again?” She asked, bored, around a mouthful of gum.

“You know, Louis. The little one,” Harry said like it was evident, “with the cheekbones.”

She fixed him with a look that showed she had no recognition of him, which in itself was preposterous to Harry, he was there helping them all morning for one and also it was _Louis._

“You know, the one with the blue eyes, that looks straight out of the cover of a romance novel?”

That made Casey snort out of her bad mood.

“Oh you mean the broody guy with the beard, that’s always looking at you with puppy eyes?”

Gina cocked an eyebrow, and the tease spread her mouth out into a smile.

Harry was about to reply, despite crawling under the weight of a giant glitter ball, but they were interrupted by the return of Louis with Niall, Zayn, and Liam in tow.

“You need help, Styles?” Standing at the foot of the ladder, Louis looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Yes.” Harry whined, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, the events of the last few weeks taking their toll on him. That was all it took for Louis to climb up and be all in his space, a worried little line forming in between his eyebrows.

“You okay?” Louis asked, smoothing a sweaty curl away from Harry’s red-flushed face.

Harry felt much better now that Louis was there to share the burden with him. Literally.  

Louis guided the mirror ball towards the clip hanging from the ceiling and fixed it there without so much as breaking a sweat.

“Thank you.” Harry muttered because he didn’t think Louis would appreciate Harry dissolving into tears in his arms at the top of a ladder of all places.

Louis held Harry’s hand on the way down and if possible, Harry’s heart grew two sizes bigger.

After that, Louis never left his side. Checking on the DJ, making sure the band had all they needed, fixing the lights, and briefing the caterer —  striking boxes off Harry’s checklist with a triumphant ‘done’ as they went along.

“You work well together.” Niall remarked offhandedly to Harry as Louis was discussing with Seren and Helene where the party favors should go. “Told you, he’s a caretaker.”

“I know.” Harry said bashfully as Louis joined them.

“I think you’re all set here, right?” Louis asked. “You may even have time for a bath or a nap, you look like you need it, bab— , uhm, Harry.”

Niall raised his eyebrows but didn’t offer any comment.

Louis fixed them a cup of hot cocoa, as they arrived home, making small talk as they sipped from their cups slowly, watching the snow falling outside. It wasn’t long before the topic of the dance was brought up again.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me and for the kids.” Harry said, happy for little reprieve from the hectic carousel that was his life at the moment. He didn’t have the chance to thank Louis properly until now, and every fleeting moment felt like a ‘now or never’ kind of opportunity these days.

Louis’ chin dropped to his sternum and Harry just knew he was trying to hide a pleased smile.  

“And thank you for agreeing to chaperone. I know I kind of forced you into it, so it means a lot that you’re coming with me.”

Louis looked up, meeting his gaze. “You’re very welcome.”

“Have you decided on what you’re wearing?” Harry asked, because if he stared longer into Louis’ blue eyes, he would just spontaneously combust. “Please tell me you’re not wearing that suit you wore at the funeral.”

The rebuff seemed to unsettle Louis, and come to think of it, it _was_ insensitive of Harry to bring up Winnie’s funeral out of the blue like this. It was too late now to do anything about it.

“Umm, I don’t know,” Louis flinched, “I’m not sure I have another suit, I know it’s old and too big for me now, I lost some weight after— I lost weight. anyway I’m not sure I have another suit.” Louis stammered.

“Let’s go have a look in your closet then, I’m sure we’ll find something nice.”

Harry gave Louis an encouraging smile and Louis shrugged, trying to look casual before leading them upstairs, into his room that Harry so rarely got a glimpse of.

It was smaller than his own, less cosy too, with bare, honey yellow walls and simple drapes hung on each side of the window. It looked every bit the guestroom that it was intended to be in the first place, and it didn’t look like Louis had done anything to make it more homey over the years.

There wasn’t even a picture of Teddy here.

“May I?” Harry pointed towards the small closet in the corner of the room and Louis nodded silently, taking a seat on his bed.

When Harry opened the wardrobe, he was met with a vision of [ plaid shirt after plaid shirt](https://freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/156450691966/harriettejane-flannel), a myriad of red, blue, and green checks, one as inadequate for a dance as the next.

"Do you own anything other than plaid?" Harry asked, even though he already knew the answer to that.

“Hey, I might be gay, but I’m still a lumberjack, what do you want from me?”

Harry levelled him with the most unimpressed look he could muster.

"You can't wear any of these tonight!"                      

Louis leaned back on his elbows and raised his eyebrows. “Guess I have to stay home then. Feeling a bit tired anyway.”

“But you promised and— ”

“I’m joking.” Louis’ smile touched the corners of his eyes, “I have a nice jacket somewhere—  I think.” He thumbed at his bottom lip then rose to his feet and trotted out the door. “Come with me then, little stress ball, you’ll tell me if it’s good enough.”

Harry snorted at that but he still followed Louis’ footsteps. He lead Harry to his own room, and stopped —  in front of Teddy’s closet.

Harry didn’t dare to breathe, let alone speak.

He was aware he was wide eyed but Louis wasn’t looking at him, He kept his eyes closely trained on the wardrobe, like he was bracing himself for what was to come.

“Louis— ”

Louis ignored him, but his breath caught when he heard his name. Then, he opened the door and started to scroll through the hangers with shaky fingers. “I think there’s one here.”

His voice was trembling, but he continued, bottom lip jutting out and quivering with every hanger he moved.

When his hand got too shaky, Harry stilled it with his own and Louis turned to fully face him, wetness brimming at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m trying,” Louis said, helplessly. ”I’m fucking trying.”

That’s all it took for Harry to wrap him in his arms, nose sinking in the crown of his soft hair and taking a long breath, hand gently stroking his back. “I know you are, you’re amazing. You’re doing the best you can.”

Louis wasn’t crying, but he was on the edge, hanging on to Harry like a drowning man to a buoy.

“Do you want to empty the closet now?” Harry offered, sensing Louis needed him to take the reigns.

Louis shook his head against Harry’s shoulder, tightening his hold around his neck. “I don’t know yet. Ask me tomorrow, maybe tomorrow.”

“How about that nap then? I think we could both use one. It’s going to be a long night and I need you in top shape, you’re dancing with me tonight."

“Am I?” Louis’ snort was wet with emotion but it was there.

“Yes, as of right now, your dance card is full.”

“Okay, then.” He sighed, looking up and gently stroking Harry’s cheek with the back of his knuckles, lingering. “As you wish.”

Oh Harry wished.

Harry wanted to kiss him, in fact as he helped Louis get under the covers with him —  without so much as talking about the fact that they hadn’t shared a bed in two weeks —  Harry wanted to do a lot more than kiss him. He wanted to get lost in Louis’ warmth, taste every inch of his skin, swallow every one of his gasps.

He didn’t dare break the fragile balance by trying anything though. He missed being close to Louis too much, missed his scent, his warmth, his tender arms. So instead, he just slid behind him, slotted his hips against Louis’ ass, and wrapped an arm around his tummy until Louis let out a relaxed sigh.

  
  

 

For the second time that day, Louis pulled into the small parking lot of Maple Ridge High. He felt more relaxed than he had earlier, thanks to Harry, who was currently climbing down from the truck, wrapped in a parka with a fake fur collar, a chapka, and mittens, of all things.

He was cuter than [ any human version of an otter ](http://pbs.twimg.com/media/BjjRzDtCIAEn5tz.png:medium) had the right to be.

As they walked inside, Louis was hit by a wave of memories, different than the ones that washed over him in the morning when he came to help. The dread and anxiety was now replaced by something more pleasant, like nostalgia, and this time, he walked the corridor with the attitude of a soldier coming back to the battlefield.

Through the naked walls of the corridor, over the bright linoleum, came ghostly echoes of long forgotten memories; and he could see a glimpse of the past hiding in every corner of the decorated gym.

The committee had really outdone itself turning the gymnasium into a ballroom. You wouldn’t imagine teenagers sweating their asses off here if it wasn’t for the field marks on the ground. Oversized snowflakes cut out of cardboard were hanging from the ceiling in different sizes and shapes, as well as silver and white balloons. Clear, glass ornaments filled with faux snow were hanging everywhere, along with mirror balls in different sizes, reflecting the light coming from the strings of white LED bulbs falling like curtains down every wall, making the venue appear to be illuminated by stars.

It was every bit of the winter formal anyone would dream of, Louis thought, whistling in amazement.

In a rush of footsteps and giggles, young boys in tuxedos and girls clad in bright, formal gowns in every color of the rainbow passed them in the hall, all looking as giddy and happy as the situation allowed.

A bittersweet smile graced Louis’ lips.

The giddiness was infectious. It started as a tingle in his toes and fingertips, spreading to his chest, washing away the stress and the sadness of the day.

So he allowed himself to enjoy the night, starting with dinner surrounded by his closest friends, stuffing himself full off hors d’oeuvres and cheap punch, laughing at every one of Niall’s jokes, throwing pieces of bread in Liam’s direction, talking with Zayn, and poking fun at every bit of useless trivia Harry graced them with during the night.

“Did you know there are 800 species of bees in Canada?” Harry dropped after dinner.

[ Louis nodded patiently](https://78.media.tumblr.com/9475ab52ef5bb078fed60b4a61acdc19/tumblr_pecdvhuoQE1whhd7to1_540.gif). “Yes.”

"Okay then, did you know that you can tell the age of a tree by the rings?"  Harry tried again.

“I’m a lumberjack, what do you think?”

Harry moved his pout from one side of his face to the other.

"Louis, did you know— "

"Yes."

Harry sat up straighter at that, a vein popping in his neck. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Assume that I know. Just always assume that I know." Louis replied offhandedly, with a flick of his hand, his nose scrunching in fondness without him meaning to.

Soon enough, the tables were cleared, and the music started, most of the kids already easing towards the dance floor.

Harry continued to sulk for five full minutes while their friends toppled over laughing. Eventually Louis found it in his heart to put a stop to the teasing, getting up and flicking Harry’s ear.

“I believed you promised me some dancing. Pouting, however, was not on the program.”

“Hey, I don’t pout.” Harry said, eyes sparkling in the dark. “Pouting is unattractive, I’ll have you know.”

Louis very much disagreed with that statement. Harry’s face was all golden skin and long eyelashes, sharp jaw, tamed curls and baby ears one could only be endeared by. He really was breathtaking.

Without waiting for a response, Harry’s hand wrapped around Louis’ upper arm, squeezing lightly to signal him to lead the way.

Louis felt small between Harry’s arms, like he rarely had before. He felt every centimeter of Harry’s large hands framing his hips as they swayed to a mid-tempo song Louis had never heard before.

Louis rested his own hands over Harry’s arms, but quickly trailed them up, over his shoulders and tangled behind his neck, fingers tugging slightly at the curls there.

If there was space between them at first, there wasn’t anymore, once young people started to press around them, happy and elegant. Harry pulled him closer into the safe circle of his arms, as if to shield him from the outside world (which was ridiculous, given that they were at a high school dance, but it felt wonderful regardless.)

Speaking of, they were supposed to chaperone, among other pressing things, but Louis couldn’t care less right now as he danced, lost in the green of Harry’s eyes.

“You clean up nice.” Harry said, putting some distance between them, to appraise Louis’ body unabashedly.

Louis ended up wearing one of Harry’s jackets over a white button up shirt and a pair of his own black trousers that used to be a little on the tight side, they were long forgotten in the back of a drawer. He was a little underdressed in the midst of all the tuxedos and suits but he still looked better than Alfie, the math teacher, so that was definitely a win, especially when Harry was looking at him like _that_.

Harry tugged at Louis’ jacket. “I like you in my clothes.”

Louis had a feeling Harry would like him even more out of them.

How could anyone resist Harry ever with his voice like gravel and a devilish grin to match? How? More importantly, how did Louis resist for this long? He was a master at self-restraint for sure. He deserved a medal.

Louis didn’t answer, grabbing at Harry’s collar tightly, coaxing him to step closer to Louis with a self-explanatory groan. And Louis wanted to drag him behind the bleachers and make out with him, wanted to kiss him until his mouth turned cherry red and his hair turned into a mess of wild curls.

“It’s hard to be here.” Louis found himself confessing to Harry’s shoulder instead after a moment spent in the safety of Harry’s arms. It was easier to talk when he wasn’t under Harry’s attentive gaze. “I have memories in every corner of this place.”

Louis was saying it to put some emotional distance between them where there was no physical one (Harry’s pelvis was moving against his thigh in time with the beat for fuck’s sake), but he managed to achieve the exact opposite when he blurted, “I’m glad I’m making new memories that include you this time.”

He felt Harry’s smile against the side of his face, his eyelashes batting on Louis’ cheek, before Harry twirled him, then levelled him with an encouraging smile that matched his compassionate gaze.

Why must he be a lovely human being on top of it all? It made things so much harder for Louis, God dammit.

“Would you take me on a tour?”

“Don’t you already know every corner of this school?” Louis huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah but I want to see it through your eyes.” Harry insisted, “Please?”

“Sure.” Louis conceded, “After your diabolical plan has unfolded though. Niall would never forgive us if we weren’t there to see Casey fall madly in love with him.”

“You sound mocking but this is exactly what’s going to happen, mark my words.”

“We’ll see soon enough, I suppose.”

The music shifted to an even slower beat, slick and almost melancholic, something familiar, a blast from the past that Louis recognised as an Alex and Sierra cover of “[ The One That I Want](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRNxASRwlis).”

“I love this song.” Louis mumbled into Harry’s broad chest, closing his eyes and letting himself be immersed into the music, the rest of the world fading into black.

“Wouldn’t have pictured you as a Grease fan.” Harry chuckled into his hair. His feet were barely moving now.

“I might be a lumberjack, but I’m still gay. What do you want from me?”

“A lot. Maybe too much.” It was said faintly just as the crowd started to cheer and Louis didn’t dare look at Harry’s face, scared of what he might find there. “We need to move, the ice sculpture is here. Do you see Niall?”

Just like that, the bubble of quietness Louis found himself in had burst.

“Um, I— I’ll, um, I’ll go see if the DJ is ready to play the song and you go fetch Niall, he must be readying the snow canon.”

Harry acquiesced and left without another word, but not before squeezing Louis’ hand like he would a good luck charm.

 

  

 

Niall was a bundle of nerves when Harry found him sat on the snow canon, in the confines of the Janitor’s closet.

“It’s showtime, Nialler. Let’s go.’”

“What if she hates it? What if she still hates me afterwards?” Niall asked without preamble, voice thick with worry.

“She’s not going to hate it.” Harry dismissed immediately, he didn’t know much, but he did know that. “You should have seen her face when the ice sculpture came in. I swear she was ready to burst right there. The rest is icing on the cake. You’re going to sweep her off her feet.”

Niall ran a hand through his hair. “That girl hates everything.”

“No she doesn’t.” Harry said, appalled. How was Harry able to see this and not Niall who knew her for the better part of 16 years? “If anything, it’s a facade she puts up to protect herself and her feelings.”

Niall’s forehead furrowed. “Like Louis?”

“Yeah, exactly like Louis.”

Niall still didn’t look convinced, pacing the small room with quick, short strides. “God dammit I should have played the song myself on the piano instead of listening to you and Lou.”

“No, I’m going to launch the canon and then you’re going to ask her to dance just as the DJ starts playing the first few notes, and then the flakes will start pouring gently over her head as you’ll make her twirl and she’ll kiss you. You don’t kiss her, you let her make the move. That’s the plan.”

A dramatic sigh left Niall’s lips. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work.” Harry smiled. “Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there for good things to happen.”

“Okay.” Niall inflated his cheeks, then let out a long breath.

He stood up, chest puffed out proudly, ready to face his future “Hey Harry,” He said before opening the door of the gym, “maybe you should take your own advice?”

He walked off before Harry could say anything.

Maybe Niall was right. Maybe Harry had been too careful with Louis, paralyzed by his own fear of rejection, maybe he should say something, try. He didn’t have time to reflect on that though, he had fake snow to launch and a match to make.

Watching Niall awkwardly approach Casey in front of the ice sculpture where she was still standing, awe in her eyes, was comparable to going to a silent movie where Harry could play the dialogue in his head as he watched the love story play out in front of him.

Niall tried to seem casual, joining her with his hands buried deep in his pockets. He said hello, and she looked up, but her face was blank, she didn’t even smile at him. Niall seemed to lose his nerve then, so Harry thought that it was time to launch the snow.

What the fuck was the DJ doing though? Harry though, huffing out an exasperated sigh.

As he pushed the button, the first notes started to play and a few things happened at once:

  1. The fake snow swirled in the air, pouring in intricate patterns of big fluffy flakes all around, provoking cheers and hurrays from the crowd.
  2. Casey visibly gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth and watching with wide eyes as Niall moved imperceptibly closer to her.
  3. Harry realized it wasn’t in fact the Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson recorded song that was resonating in the gymnasium.



It was Louis.

He was there, on a stage, behind the piano, ready to sing his heart out like Winnie often dreamed he would.

The butterflies in Harry's stomach erupted — a fast and frenzied fluttering to match the wildly arrhythmic beat of his heart —  as he felt the overwhelming sense of awe settling in his bones, blossoming on his face.

Mac, Liloe, and Liz, three of Niall’s most talented choir members stood behind Louis, starting on the intro, their voices meshing perfectly in the most beautiful melody.

And then Louis started singing and Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

[ _This_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=budTp-4BGM0) _is my winter song to you._

_The storm is coming soon,_

_It rolls in from the sea_

_My voice; a beacon in the night._

_My words will be your light,_

_To carry you to me._

_Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?_

_Is love_

_They say that things just cannot grow_

_Beneath the winter snow,_

_Or so I have been told._

_They say were buried far,_

_Just like a distant star_

_I simply cannot hold._

The girls’ voices joined Louis’, one for every chorus, bringing subtle texture and warmth to his already soft rasp and as the notes passed by, the song gained in momentum. The girls’ voices came in counterpoint to Louis’ in the coda, allowing his voice to shine like a star scooped from the skies when he was asking the crowd at large “Is love alive?” over and over and over again.

Harry detached his eyes from Louis, just to witness that most of the kids weren’t dancing anymore, the crowd falling quiet, floored by the song, eyes glued on the stage as they were privileged enough to witness how magic was being made.

In fact, aside from Niall and Casey, ballroom dancing in the middle of the crowd without a care in the world, with fake snow catching in their hair like minuscule flowers, everyone was rooted to their spot.

Pride itched at Harry’s neck, made his heartbeat pulse loud and fierce behind his ears.

Louis’ eyes were glistening in the glowing light as he sung the last lyric acapella, voice ricocheting along each and every crowd member, and barging its way square into the middle of Harry’s chest.

A sweet, content smile graced Louis’ face when the crowd went wild, cheers and whistles cutting through the two beats of silence that immediately followed the last notes of the song.

He stood up and joined his hands together in a silent thank you, before gesturing to the girls to join him in a group bow.

“Give it up for Louis Tomlinson and the soloists of the Maple Ridge High Choir!” said the DJ into the microphone. “None of this would have been possible without our local Music Teacher Niall Sheeran who organized all of it, you can also thank him for the snow!”

Harry doubted Niall knew anything about it, if his flabbergasted face was anything to go by.  Count on Louis to orchestrate it all behind everyone’s back — recruit and rehearse — and give all the credit to Niall so he could seal the deal with his beloved.

Speaking of, Casey was currently dragging an extremely confused, obviously overwhelmed Niall out the door. Harry had a feeling it was a good omen.

His gaze trailed back to the stage again but Louis wasn’t there anymore, surely making his way down as the music resumed, shifting to a heavier beat, one of the students’ chart topping favorites, judging by the cheers.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was beginning to worry since Louis hadn’t come back to him yet. Come to think of it, Liam and Zayn were nowhere to be found either so he was only half listening to what Dan, the French teacher, had to say about the level of sweetness of the punch and how shameful it was that no one tried to spike it yet.

“Everyone come outside! Oh my God!” Someone shrieked, barging in, the big doors of the gymnasium opening with a loud clang. Harry recognized India, one of Liam’s best students. “The roof! You’ve gotta see what they did on the roof!”

There was already a small crowd gathered in front of the building, with all of their heads tilted up when Harry managed to make his way out.

“Harry!” Liam shouted, joining him, with Zayn and Louis in tow, they were disheveled and out of breath, big grins splitting their faces.

A small clamor started to grow,, a mix of hushed conversations and giggles as every pair of eyes turned to Harry at once.

And then he looked up.

[ On top ](https://cdn.patchcdn.com/users/54501/2013/05/T800x600/9969f1a21e8da732ba63eeefdefa5cfe.png) of the large cantilever beam hanging over the entrance, five meters up in fact, sat — Harry’s Smart car, in all its electric blue beauty, with a big blue and green “Class of 2018” flag attached to it, flapping proudly in the crisp air.

And the forefront signage of "Maple Ridge High" was now replaced with a professional sign in large wooden block letters that said "WE RIDE IN STYLE(S)”.

Everyone’s eyes were glued on Harry, all of them grinning like fools and holding their breath —  teenagers and adults alike — waiting for his reaction.

He couldn’t find it in him to disappoint them.

He took a bow.

“Good job everyone, I can admit that it’s a great one.”

“So you’re not cancelling the dance?” Brit, one of the Seniors asked, eagerly.

“No” Harry replied. He’d worked too damn hard to make it happen. He wanted to laugh but he didn’t think it would bode well in front of the kids, so he kept his composure. “Now go and enjoy yourselves. If your feet fall off, I want it to be from dancing, go back inside before you all freeze to death, shoo.” His lips stretched into a smile as cheers began to erupt. “The pranksters can rest easy tonight, detention can wait until tomorrow.”

As everyone started to trundle inside in small groups, Niall just went up to Harry and hugged him, so tightly Harry didn’t have any other choice than to hug back.

“I love you. It’s like you’ve turned back time.” Niall said, hunched all over himself so his head was pressed against Harry’s sternum, “Don’t leave us.”

Then he left before Harry could grapple for a response and he was soon distracted anyway as Louis was ambling Harry’s way, his hands deep in his pockets and a small smile curving on his lips.

“You know what, Styles? I’m a little disappointed.” Louis said, planting himself in front of Harry, “I mean detention, of all things? Really? Couldn’t think of anything else?”

Harry shrugged, fighting a smile. “I mean, I have seen better pranks, so yeah, detention it is. Something boring to match that boring prank.”

Louis gaped, his lips falling open in shock. He gasped.

“Better pran— Are you fucking kidding me? I mean this is my most planned, best crafted prank, I’ve really outdone myself here.” Louis hissed, “this is a masterpiece, if I say so myself, do you know how hard it was to get a crane here to lift the car right under your clueless nose and everyone else’s? In this weather? In and out in less than an hour?”

He looked both so disappointed and so disgruntled, and Harry didn’t have it in him to keep up the charade anymore.

Harry felt [ his nose crinkle ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/5f97815c0baa3ba7dba7d549829267a3/tumblr_inline_ohyrkaXaw81sv7gxp_250.gif) as he chuckled and Louis’ eyes widened, recognition dawning on his face.

“Oh my God! You knew!” Louis screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

Harry nodded, his smile widening and matching Louis’ own. “I did.”

“But— How?” Louis asked, eyes sparkling in the dark.

“Let’s just say you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are.” Harry’s smile turned into a wolfish smirk. “Forget detention, you know what you deserve? Some old fashioned, over the knee spanking.”

Louis lifted a calculating eyebrow, but his eyes blazed with heat. “You’re going to have to catch me first.” He broke out into a sprint immediately, giggling like a maniac and Harry didn’t have any other choice than to run after him. “Come on Styles! I thought you wanted a tour.” Louis threw over his shoulder as he passed the hallway leading to the cafeteria. He was fast, sure, but Harry had longer legs and he was quickly gaining ground, advancing on his target with long, regular strides.

Louis yelped like a little kid when Harry tackled him to the ground just before his own office. The hallway was nowhere near the gym, and they were blissfully alone. Louis didn’t push him off when Harry blanketed him with all of his weight, didn’t fight him off when Harry nosed into his neck, breathing in Louis’ intoxicating smell as Louis was still shaking with uncontrollable giggles, his joy unfolding like a flower.

_Sunburned._

Contentment filled Harry’s heart.

“For real though, how?” Louis rasped, his fingers tangling in the longer strands of Harry’s hair, tousling the curls.

“Winnie.” Harry said simply in the shell of Louis’ ear. “You were not discreet back then either as it turns out and she was a chatty lady, and I just put two and two together.”

Louis huffed out a quiet laugh, the apple of his cheeks tinted pink from their race and there was still mirth flashing in his eyes.

Louis’ mouth stretched into a smile. “You have fake snow stuck to your eyelashes,” he said, apropos of nothing, then he blew delicately, warm breath fanning over Harry’s fluttering eyes.

“There. All good.”

“I love seeing you like this.” Harry said, thumbing at his favorite freckle on Louis’ cheekbone still caging Louis with his arm.

“And how do I look?”

Harry shrugged. “Happy.”

Louis turned an attractive shade of pink, murmured a huffy, coquettish little noise of appreciation that Harry wanted nothing more than to swallow. He felt his cock twitch against Louis’ hip. If Louis noticed he didn’t say.

He looked back at Harry’s office door, exposing the column of his throat. Harry wanted to bite at it, mark him with little nips on his pale skin, then soothe them with his tongue.

“I spent a lot of time in this office,” Louis said casually, “is that terrible owl painting still in there?”

Harry’s answer was more hoarse than intended. “Do you want to check for yourself?”

Louis gave a curt little playful nod. “I would, but you’re still caging me with your infuriatingly broad chest.”

Harry muffled his laughter in the shoulder of Louis’ jacket — well, his own —  before Louis squirmed his way out from under him.

As usual, where Louis went, Harry followed.

He watched, as Louis took in all the changes Harry had made in the office — besides bringing down the wall between his desk and Casey’s. If he had the chance, Harry made his place of work as homey as possible, so there were quite a few personal items there, figurines he’d carved or pictures of his family and friends.

“I don’t have to be told which desk is yours.” Louis snorted, shaking his head at Casey’s office, where nothing was out of place. So unlike Harry’s, which was a mess of folders and Post-it notes.

Louis sauntered to the wall where Harry had hung the pictures of the friends he’d met in the numerous cities he’d visited. Harry had a long-standing tradition of taking pictures with his friends in front of city signs before his departure, as a souvenir. Some of them were goofy, with people acting like they were carrying or holding the sign over their head, some of them were more emotional, a bittersweet smile seen on some faces.

Some people were just harder to leave than others.

Some people were just hard to leave.

Louis traced a delicate finger over one of the frames. “When are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“No, I know. I meant what time.” Louis asked, not meeting Harry’s eye.

“My train leaves at 10 a.m— ” Harry was not even trying to hide the tremor in his voice, the pause at the end of his sentence an invitation for Louis to fill in the blank. To [ say something](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_g9e0JsUow). Anything. "In two days." He tried again. Was he pleading? Was he silently praying? Seconds seem to stretch into minutes.               

Louis considered Harry’s reply before he laughed, but it sounded forced and hollow where it was buoyant and radiant a mere ten minutes ago. “I’ll drive you. Least I can do since I put your car on the roof and all that.”

No one mentioned that Louis had been driving Harry around for weeks now anyway.

“Will you be taking a picture of me and the guys in front of the Abateemat sign?” Louis said, head tilted to the side, finally meeting Harry’s eyes, smile having gone frowny.

The question startled Harry, seemed loaded with _something_ he couldn’t put his finger on.  His brain was working in hyperdrive yet coming up with no conclusions, the only thing he knew was that he hated that idea with every fiber of his being, it irked him to no end.  

“Maybe,” is what Harry settled on. “Is that what you want?”

_To become a picture on the wall?_

A nice souvenir, sure, but overall forgotten, something that belonged to the past like one of Winnie’s memories Harry had logged down on the journals for Thomas.

No— _No_.

“Maybe.” Louis swallowed hard. “Will— Will you remember me?”

“No.” Harry said, mostly a knee jerk reaction to the idea of Louis belonging to the past.

He watched as a crease between Louis’ brows he wanted to soothe grew, as the uncertainty in his eyes showed.

He shook his head ruefully. “Not even my ass? Christ.”

Louis was trying to joke but Harry wanted to scream, shout, let all his frustration and longing out.

_Just ask me. Just ask me to stay._

Harry thought about how his feelings of lust had turned into something much, much larger and so much more convoluted in just a few weeks’ time and he still had no idea how. He wondered how things would go for Louis once Harry was gone. If things would go back to the way they were, if Louis would feel relief.

If he’d miss Harry at all.

“Give me a reason to remember it then.” Harry said gruffly, whisper voice turned to biting, pulling Louis against his chest as the lumberjack yelped in surprise, then flipping him and bending him over the desk. “Maybe a good spanking would do the trick, maybe that’s what you deserve anyway,” he said, grabbing two fistful of fabric clad, round, perfect ass in the process.

Louis just — _mewled_. “God, yes. Please. Do it.”

He rose onto his tiptoes and pushed his ass up invitingly, but that was not what Harry wanted — for Louis to take the lead during what would probably be their last time together, for him to pull all the strings — not at all, Harry wanted to be in charge, have some semblance of control.

With both his hands, he pushed Louis’ ass down, so sharply, Louis’ knees buckled and his hips hit the surface of the desk. Then, Harry landed a sharp slap over Louis’ clothed right cheek.

“Don’t move,” Harry nothing short of growled, “Tonight you’re mine.”

If he was not going to have forever, Harry sure was going to have tonight.

Louis didn’t fight him on it, welcomed it even, judging by the anticipative pants he was voicing. Harry circled Louis’ waist to open his trousers, and felt Louis’ erection there, his big, hard cock trapped behind the zipper. Harry’s hand lingered there, fingers digging into the fabric and palming around the bulge, not so kindly fondling his balls until Louis let out a sharp little hiss.

He strained his neck enough to peer at Harry over his shoulder, eyes half hooded and voice shot, but still too steady for Harry’s liking.

“I hate to break it to you Principal Styles, but Mrs. Boyle would have done better.” Louis cocked a daring eyebrow, voice smoky like fire, “now, give it to me. Give it to me like you _really_ want to.”

Before Louis could squeeze another word in, Harry yanked Louis trousers down, then dipped his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulled them down and greedily palmed at the meaty flesh of his ass.

“You want it so badly, don’t you,” Harry said, landing a hard slap on one of Louis’ cheeks, “gagging for it.”

“Harry.” Louis panted into the desk, discarding his shirt quickly, then resting the top of his head in the crook of his elbows. Laid out for him like this, Louis looked ethereal, even though it was a half-assed fuck hidden in an office of a high school like a dirty little secret.

“Yes, say it. Say my name, gorgeous. Say it.”

“Harry. _Baby_. Harry.”

Not Ed, not Teddy. Him. Harry. _Him._ Harry thought as he smacked Louis’ ass a second time.

He used this moment to focus on Louis’ back, adoring the elegant contours of his body, and placing lingering kisses all over. One to his nape, a peck to the side of his face, two to his shoulder blades, as if Louis was a treasure map and Harry was marking all the places where he’d visited.

_I was here, and here, and here._

There was a place on top of Louis’ ass, at the base of his spine that Harry adored the most, two perfectly symmetrical dimples he loved to dip his tongue into, not for sexual reasons —  even though they were sexy as hell —  but because every time he did, Louis sighed that pretty, little, contented sigh of of his. It might have been the most vulnerable part of his body but when they were doing this, Louis was always open, welcoming him like he was trusting Harry with something fragile.

_Soon, it all will be in the past._

Harry growled, as he fished out a lube packet from his wallet, then prodded a lube-slick thumb between Louis’ asscheeks. Louis bit at his own forearm, trying to muffle his sounds, then let Harry force the finger into the warmth of his hole.

Right now, Harry wanted to slap the two perfect indents like they were responsible for everything detrimental that ever happened between them, wanted to turn the flesh red and tender there, then soothe it with his tongue.

He started to count the slaps in his head, to keep track, to keep himself in check, prevent himself from going too far, but it did nothing to quiet down the noise in his head. It felt like all the anger and hurt they hadn’t worked out yet was surfacing at once.

One on the left dimple, and Louis cursed under his breath.

_For not making me feel like I had a place in your home for so long._

Louis let out a wet broken moan as Harry shoved another finger up Louis’ asshole, Louis grinding back on it languidly.

One on the right dimple that made Louis’ moan turn into a cry.

_For not giving us a chance._

Louis glanced back again and he looked so vulnerable, eyes so wide and blue and wet and trusting as he looked Harry right in the face.

One on the wobbly flesh of his ass, where the last mark of his hand hadn’t faded yet.

_For not meeting me before you met Teddy._

“Fuck me.” Louis whimpered, “Baby, please, just fuck me now.”

Harry grabbed him by the jaw, kept the fingers of his other hand right against Louis’ prostate.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed my cock.” Harry bit into Louis’ sweaty jaw, nipping at Louis’ earlobe, licking into the shell of it.

_Tell me how much you’re going to miss me._

“Come on, tell me how much you want me. You want it up your ass, don’t you?” He breathed, as he fumbled with his belt buckle with lubed fingers, pushing his trousers and boxers past his balls and down his thighs, coating his length with the rest of the lube, after rolling down the condom experimentally. “Tell me. _Tell me._ ”

One slap square on Louis’ quivering empty asshole.

_For being such a stubborn son of a bitch._

“I want it. Missed it so much. Want to feel you for days.” Louis’ strangled words came out of his slick, red hanging-open mouth, over and over and over again just when Harry crowded against his back, rubbing his erection against the swell of Louis’ cheeks, slipping his cock in, the velvety sides of Louis’ walls welcoming him home.

_For making me fall in love with you when you had no space in your heart left for me._

“Gonna fuck you until you cry. God, I love the sounds you make.” Harry panted encouragingly when Louis moaned with abandon just as Harry rode out another flash of heat, tension curling around his spine.

Harry’s hands got greedy, explored everywhere, up Louis’ sides to feel his rib cage moving to the rhythm of his wracked breathing, up his thighs to feel them work under his fingers, down his arse, to feel where his cock stretched Louis out, pushed his thumb alongside his cock. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well, beautiful. I love it.”

_I love you._

The office door creaked open, and Harry realized he hadn’t locked it, too wrapped up in following Louis to even think about something as mundane as that.

Harry turned his head to watch Niall and Casey tumble inside, kissing like teanagers, Niall’s right hand already fumbling to unbutton the top of Casey’s blouse while the other was up her skirt.

On instinct, Harry blanketed Louis with his whole body, shielding him from prodding eyes.

His skin prickled, as he slipped out of Louis, hard on still nested between Louis’ cheeks and he nudged his face against Louis’, breathing heavily and wondering for a split second how Louis felt about people finally finding out about them.

“Holy mother of God.” Casey yelped upon seeing them, and fleeing the scene immediately.

Niall on the other hand, didn’t give them the same courtesy, but he had the decency to turn around at least.

There was something symbolic about their last time together being cut short, Harry thought, just like their love story was, too soon. They didn’t even share one last kiss.

_Love, interrupted._

“Were you two fucking?” Niall blurted, hands on his waist. “Don’t answer that. I saw a penis.“ He made a wide gesture with his right hand. “Speaking of, Harry, congratulations on the— ” He pointed blindly towards what Harry believed was his crotch, making a show of covering his eyes. “Impressive.”

Harry snorted.

“Wait— does this mean you’re staying?”

Louis growled from under him. “No. Of course not.” Louis replied in Harry’s place.

It felt like an ice cold shower when he pushed Harry away, then proceeded to put a lot — too much — distance between them as they made themselves presentable again.

Aside from his hair sticking out in odd places, no one would suspect he was being fucked into a desk two minutes ago.

“Why the hell not?” Niall wailed, “You’d be good together. Teddy would want you to move on.”

Harry didn’t dare move a muscle, his gaze landing on Louis’ now disbelieving face.

"You know what? This time I think you're wrong.” Louis said, lip quivering and voice unsteady,  “I truly can't picture my late husband trying to get me to hop into bed with the temp principal just so that I can _get some_. So once in your fucking life, why don’t you try and mind your own business.”

“But— ” Niall tried.

Harry let out a short, derisive laugh, turning to face Louis.

“I’m right here, you know that? Right in front of you. Stop talking like I’m not. No one ever bothers asking me what _I_ want. It’s always about what _you_ need or about what _Teddy_ would have wanted. I’m right here.”

 _Alive. Here. Now. For you._ _Ready to love you._

“Not for long.” Louis’ hard face didn’t betray what he was thinking, but the dismissal was clear as day.

Harry stumbled backwards, like he had just been punched in the region where his heart used to be.

“I’ll be in the truck,” Harry said mournfully, anger sizzling in his bones. He felt no consolation on being the one to decide to leave for once instead of Louis ordering him around like usual.

Harry wasn’t about to cry, He wasn’t. He already knew in the folds of his heart that this was where they were headed all along, but it didn’t stop his stomach from dropping, didn’t stop his hands from trembling, didn’t prevent the tears from welling up at the corner of his eyes.

As he made his way out through the door Niall had left ajar in his haste to flee the wreck that was this conversation, Louis started talking, so Harry stopped and listened.

“Do you know why my truck is so new compared to everything else I own?” He said, “It’s because my old one was wrecked in the accident Teddy died in. We were bringing Jacky’s golden retriever back to her after Teddy patched her up. Teddy was driving and we hit a moose.” A hurt little noise passed Louis’ lips. “We were fine, or so I thought, but the dog was hurt pretty badly. And you know, Teddy was convinced I was as good as him after years of helping him, that’s the kind of person he was. He believed in people. It’s the only reason I put my hands on the dog’s wound, to try and prevent it from bleeding out, I just knew what to do. I don’t know how I didn’t hear him collapse. I don’t know why I didn’t register it was taking too long. All I can remember is that one minute Teddy was there telling me he was getting his gear in the back and the next he was dead, just like that. He was dead.”

A rush of memories flood Harry’s thumping mind at once. Louis insisting on not letting Harry drive in the snow, the fact that Harry’s own car was permanently out of order on the roof as they spoke; Louis’ odd reaction when he fell on his ass just before they made love in the barn.

_How did you get a driver’s licence with such a bad hand/foot coordination? How?_

How he checked Harry’s body for injuries. How relieved he looked once Harry reminded Louis he was his chauffeur.

“The paramedics said he bled internally,” Louis’ voice was nothing more than a whisper now but his eyes were hard, intimidating, and Harry did his best job at concealing how much he struggled not to squirm away under his gaze. “He was _right here_ too, Harry. And then he wasn’t.” Louis looked away as if he couldn’t bear to see him anymore. “I know where this road leads, I know you think you mean it, but people lie and then they die. I’m not wired like that though, I keep my promises and I made my vows to him a long time ago. Can’t you understand that?”

Harry ran an exasperated hand through his hair. He _didn’t_ understand. Couldn’t wrap his head around all of what Louis had just revealed. He needed time to process it after months of silence around the big taboo that was Ed — _Teddy_ — Sheeran whenever Harry was around. Louis’ words were swirling in a circle around Harry’s gut, but all that mattered right now was the pain in the air that clung to his skin like a drenched shirt after a heavy workout, and the strong sense of loss sitting heavily in Harry’s heart.

No, Harry didn’t know what to think about all of this, but one thing was abundantly clear.

Louis was in love. Just not with Harry.

  
  

 

Abateemat, New Brunswick had a population of four thousand, and to Louis, it felt like virtually every one of its inhabitants dropped by the house to say goodbye to Harry, despite the shitty weather.

At least, that was what the short amount of time Louis spent home that day suggested, as he witnessed family after family drowning Harry with gifts, hugs and well wishes, starting at the crack of dawn.

Harry returned every smile, hugged every one person with emphasis, reminisced with them about their time spent together, and opened every gift with moved, wet eyes.

How had Harry managed to befriend everyone in town in such a short period of time? Even Louis’ direct competition in the logging business came by, for crying out loud!  How had he made himself at home so quickly?

Everyone loved Harry and he loved them right back.

Soon enough, the goodbyes became too distressing for Louis to witness and he kept catching flashes of sadness in Harry’s eyes every time their gaze met. Even though it was the kind of day that called for a hang out by the fireplace with Harry’s baked goods, Louis went straight to the woods, where he could be alone with his tangle of conflicting thoughts.

Pretending he was scouting for a tree, or hunting, was pointless however, he was too tired to lie to himself.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew Harry had feelings for him. He felt it in every stolen glance, every fleeting caress, every ghost of a kiss Harry graced him with.

He knew what Harry wanted, for Louis to ask him to stay.

And what if he did and then Harry got bored just like he did with every one of his adventures before this one? It was bound to happen with all the places he’d seen and all the people he’d met. Why on earth would he settle for this life?

He’d leave, just like everyone else in Louis’ life — Teddy, Winnie, the Sheerans, even his own mother had moved two towns away now — and Louis would be left scooping up the remnants of his broken heart, fighting for dear life just to breathe again.

Louis had promised himself a long time ago he wouldn’t let himself be that vulnerable again.

Besides—  Louis just couldn’t.

_How long will you love me?_

[ _Always & Forever. _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrJBlk8q8qc)

That was what Teddy and he had promised to each other over and over again since they were sixteen year old: ever since they first exchanged I love you’s, teary eyed into each other’s skin just after they made love for the first time in Louis’ cramped bed. And again, a few years later, in front of everyone they knew and loved on their wedding day with matching grins, then every day ever since and in between.

The testament was engraved permanently on their wedding bands.

Most of Louis’ afternoon was spent walking around and lighting little fires to keep himself warm even though he felt as numb as one could feel —- the sensation diffused from the inside out, as if his own blood was running chill, and it had nothing to do with the snowy Canadian wind licking at his face and creeping under his clothes.

In fact the last time he felt that cold was when he was met with the sight of Teddy’s lifeless body. His sharp knees had dug into the earth when he had hit the ground as the threads of every happy memory unravelled in front of him. His hands had silently clawed at the dirt as he had counted the seconds for the paramedics to arrive.

He had opened his mouth, but not a sound had come out of it except for a muffled scream he couldn't hear over the buzzing of his ears.

Now he mostly remembered the taste of the bile dripping from behind his teeth and onto the ground, and the cold that crept up his spine and seeped into his muscles until they began to ache.

For months after that, he had felt like no sweater or fire would have been able to make him feel warm ever again.

He felt a whiff of it not so long ago, a phantom pain, the day Harry and him had sex in the barn, like wet concrete was infiltrating his bone marrow. Harry was the one to put him out of that trance, work the stiffness from his limbs, with careful, gentle, warming hands and his own body heat.

He wondered briefly why he felt like this again now, like his body craved warmth and was screaming for help.

He was too drained to pretend it had nothing to do with Harry’s impending departure.

  
  

 

By dinner time, when Niall showed up, Harry was already emotionally exhausted. Thomas’ visit as well as Zayn’s, and Liam’s, had put him over the edge. His nose was stuffy from all the crying he had suppressed and he also felt dizzy since he hadn't eaten anything all day.

The updates on Niall’s dream of a love life were not as welcome as Harry thought they would be, given that he was key to getting them together in the first place.

Their happiness just enhanced the feeling of loneliness that had settled in Harry’s heart since the formal.

“I have you to thank, you know?” Niall said, giving Harry a stern look, a hand firmly set on his shoulder. “There’s no way that would have happened without you. I owe you so much.”

“It was a group effort.” Harry tried to smile, Niall nodded along, seemingly satisfied.

“Where’s Lou?”

“Woods.” Harry replied grimly, the house had never felt more empty than it did right now. “You know how he is.”

“Right.” Niall said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “Just as well, we need some one on one time anyway. I don’t want him to see me ugly cry when we hug goodbye.”

Harry’s chuckle was wet. He was going to miss Niall the most (aside from the brooding son of a bitch actively avoiding him).

To occupy his hands, Harry started on a quick meal for the both of them, nothing fancy, he didn’t have that much of an appetite despite the protests of his growling stomach. Out of habit, he made sure there was enough left for Louis.

It would be hard going back to cooking for one.

Niall was mostly quiet, but Harry could feel his gaze on his back.

“I spent a good chunk of my childhood hating him, you know?” Niall said, just like he was continuing a conversation they hadn’t voiced out loud.

Harry titled his head back in question.

“Teddy," Niall clarified. “Got compared to him too often not to.” He had this air about him he often got, where he was trying to tell Harry something while talking about something else. “It’s natural to be jealous of someone who’s good at everything, don’t you think?”

“Is it natural to feel jealous of a ghost?” Harry shoulders sagged as Niall’s gazed turned compassionate, realizing how much of a toll the whole situation had taken on him, especially since he’d had no one to confide in about it. “Sometimes,” Harry continued, “my eyes land on one of his pictures on the wall and I just want to smash the frame into a million pieces.” He felt the tears starting to sting at his eyelids, pooling at the corners, burning. “I know you all adored him, but to me he’s just an invisible hand on my neck, squeezing. A rampant poison, taking so much space that I can’t breathe.”

As if it was a cosmic, sick joke, his throat tightened up and his lungs burned as streaks of tears stained his cheeks.

“Oh, Harry.” Niall reached out to him, and Harry easily went, deeming Niall a particularly comfortable shoulder to cry on. It took a moment, but his sobs eased down, he kept his head buried in his friend’s shoulder though, realizing how much he needed the comfort.

“It doesn’t matter, you know that, right?” Niall said gently. “Because whatever race you feel like you’re running against him, you win, you _have_ won.” Harry shrugged, sniffing into Niall’s shirt. “He’s dead and you’re alive. You win. It’s kinda funny actually, seeing how much you remind me of him.”

Harry’s brows drawn together. “How so?”

“You are both good at everything and in love with Louis, for starters.” Niall raised his eyebrows in challenge, daring Harry to deny it. Harry averted his gaze. “The difference is that you’re a coward and he wasn’t.”

“I’m not a coward!”

“Oh? Have you told him you love him, by any chance?”

“I— “ Harry looked down. “He’d turn me down, Niall. He’s not ready and I’ve reached a point where I don’t think he’ll ever be.”

“Maybe so.” Niall agreed, “But for what it’s worth, Teddy wouldn’t have given up so easily. And Louis? Louis is worth fighting for. He just needs more time. You need to give him more time.”

“We don’t have anymore time.” Harry said stubbornly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re just as scared as he is to put yourself out there. He’s been wounded, but what’s your excuse? Are you scared of finding a place to stay and sit still for once, give up your fast paced, hectic life? Or is it your pride getting in the way?”

It was the first time Harry was at the other end of one of Niall’s steamrolling rants, those were usually reserved for Louis. Harry didn’t like it one bit.

“I— “ Harry fumbled for a response.

“Love is a gamble,” Niall cut him off, “You need to take risks for the pay off, look at me and Casey. I think you’re so used to having everything come to you so easily you don’t even realize it.”

Harry would laugh at the irony of Niall acting like a relationship expert after being with the girl of his dreams for only two days, if his mouth wasn’t swimming in bile.

“I want to stay, but I just want him to meet me halfway, I don’t think it’s too much to ask.” He finally managed to croak out, exertion making his words more slurred than usual.

“Let me put it this way,” Niall dismissed. “If you want to stay, stay. He’ll come around, I promise.”

“You don’t get it. I want _him_ to want me to stay. And so far, he’s given me no sign that he does.”

Niall was going to argue, finger raised in the air when Louis stepped inside, back from his beloved forest, cheeks flushed and scruff peppered in snowflakes.

“Alright?” He asked, frowning at the two of them, not impervious to the tension in the air.

Absolutely nothing was alright.

Nothing was resolved.

And it felt like nothing would be either, as Louis’ arrival put an end to their conversation. Niall’s anger seemed to deflate like a soufflé out of the oven.

Niall gestured for Harry to come and hug him, and Harry went easily, lump in his throat showing no signs of easing.

“I’m sorry I spoke ill of your brother.” Harry confessed under his breath, because that was one thing he didn’t want to be left up in the air after he was gone. “It was selfish of me to dump that shit on you, of all people.”

Niall shook his head dismissively, like it was the least of his concerns.

“You have time, think about what I’ve said.” Niall murmured in the crook of Harry’s neck. “He’s not going anywhere. You can always come back, you know? Pride is a stupid thing to have standing between you and love.”

  
  

 

“All set and ready to go?” Louis asked the next day after breakfast. He looked like he’d slept as much as Harry had, which was none at all, and his voice was subdued, at best.

Harry had tossed and turned all night, hoping that Louis would show up outside his bedroom door and say everything Harry had ever wanted to hear. He had finally given up around dawn, before tiptoeing his way downstairs and making the strongest coffee he could manage.

No. No he definitely wasn’t ready to go and leave the love of his life behind.

“Yes.” Harry tried to smile, but it felt fake.

“Get in the truck, then.” Louis’ smile looked forced.

Harry curled a tense hand around the strap of his travel bag as Louis loaded his suitcase in the back.

They didn’t speak on the way to the train station and Harry didn’t feel the need to fill the silence either, too sorrowful to even breathe properly, let alone make small talk.

The ride seemed to take forever and it was only when Harry spotted Tabby’s diner that he realized Louis was taking the scenic route there.

Maybe Louis would say something on the platform, like in the movies, Harry thought idly. Maybe it wasn’t the end after all. Maybe he was just gathering the nerve.

As the truck glided into the train station car park, it grew harder to pretend.

Before Louis could open the door, Harry’s hand reached out to Louis’ knee, Louis freezing at the touch. He didn’t have to look at Louis to know his breathing caught, too.

“Would you give Winnie’s memory book to Thomas for me?” Harry asked, looking straight ahead, voice scratchy from disuse and fatigue all at once, “I completely forgot to yesterday.”

If Harry couldn’t muster the courage to say anything of use about their relationship he could at least make good on his promises to Winnie.

“Of course.”

“Thanks. It’s in my, um, my room.”

Except — it wasn’t his anymore. When Harry left it earlier, it was in the exact same shape he had found it — Teddy’s clothes in the closet, included. Like Harry had never been there in the first place.

He couldn’t think of anything more depressing if he tried.

“’I’ll take care of the book.” Louis assured him.

Harry expected Louis to leave him at the parking lot, but he took ahold of his luggage and walked Harry all the way to platform four where his train was set to depart in less than ten minutes.

“This is it then.” Harry chuckled nervously, as they stepped to a halt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Awkwardly, Harry took a step forward, leaning in for a crushing hug that Louis tried to pull out of way too quickly. Harry kept him there though, tightening his hold around Louis’ waist.

“Wait. Don’t let go yet,” he said, pathetically, then made a heartbreaking sound, from somewhere deep in his throat. Louis let out a little gasp of shock, turning stiff, but he couldn’t back away, trapped in the circle of Harry’s arms.  

Louis melted into Harry’s embrace in a way that had his heart thumping against Harry’s chest and hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder, the gentle press of his cold nose behind Harry’s ear making him shiver.

Slowly, one of Louis’ hands rose to Harry’s neck, and the other to Harry’s heart, and Louis just rested them there.     

Harry could go all-out right now. He could say everything that had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. He could let the tears and the words spill everywhere. Maybe he should, maybe that would make all the difference.

Louis was close enough that Harry could hear the soft cadence of his breathing over the frenetic pounding of his own heart, could feel the warmth of Louis’ breath on the side of his face.   

“Louis, I— “ Harry began, and he immediately felt Louis stiffen in his arms. Felt him imperceptibly shake his head no.

Harry’s heart sank as the words died in his throat and he recalled exactly the reason why he was leaving in the first place. Louis didn’t want him.

Harry would never be Teddy, would never come close to represent what he did to Louis. No matter how much affection and attention Louis had shown him, he always went back to Teddy eventually. Louis would rather live with his ghosts than with him.

_Please don’t do this to us. We could be happy if you only let us. Just ask me to stay._

“Be careful, okay?” Louis said wetly, after several beats, “I don’t want to hear that you broke a limb out there.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Harry said in lieu of a response, kissing the first thing in his reach — Louis’ forehead. “I left a birthday present for you.”

It was one of the things he decided to do at the ass crack of dawn, after Niall’s words had stopped ricocheting in his head. One way to hold on to hope.

“Oh Harry, you shouldn’t have.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have, only time would tell. They stared at each other for several beats, intense and penetrating. Louis looked away first, leaving Harry feeling weirdly unsettled.

“You’re turning 35, it’s a big one, it’s important. Besides, I wanted to.” Harry shrugged dismissively. “Use it, okay?”

Louis nodded, eyebrows tightly furrowed before he took in an unsteady breath.

Way too soon, Harry heard the train roll into the station, spelling the end of their goodbye with a whistle.

“Goodbye. Travel safe.” Louis said as he gave Harry a small salute, starting to walk backwards, forced, little smile on his face. “You’re going to do great, I know it. You’re destined for great things, Harry Styles.”

“Goodbye.” Harry managed to choke out despite the lump in his throat.

_Love you, goodbye._

Harry’s heart was still galloping right under where Louis’ hand had rested a second ago, chest lifting and falling rapidly.

 _Love him or leave him_ , Niall once said about Louis. The very first day they’d met, actually.

As he stepped foot into the compartment that was going to take him away from Louis forever, Harry couldn’t believe he was going to have to do both.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so sad Alexa, play “Spaces” by One Direction.


	12. Chapter 12

"When you can tell your story and it doesn’t make you cry,

that’s when you know you’ve healed."

— Unknown

 

At first, Louis didn’t feel his absence.

Between spending Christmas with his family, and his birthday with the guys, Louis hadn’t had the chance to even sit down, let alone _think_. After that, he latched on to everything he possibly could to keep busy.

Anything was better than staring at the plane ticket to Jamaica Harry had pinned to the fridge with a Post-it note as a birthday gift.

  


**In case you need a vacation** **.**

**xx**

**Harry**

 

Louis scrubbed his bathroom until it was spotless, moved on to doing the spring cleaning his study had desperately needed for years, went over all of his accounting books and paperwork while he was at it, forced Jennie, his insurance broker, to shorten her vacation with her wife to go over all his contrats. Louis even was the one _initiating_ a gathering (a miracle — Niall’s words) by inviting Niall and Casey for a home cooked meal (Zayn and Liam deciding to take a vacation cruise together during the winter break).

It was obviously a mistake for at least four reasons:

  1. Seeing Niall and Casey so disgustingly happy made his gut twist (seriously that much PDA should be forbidden for straight people, in Louis’ humble opinion) — and neither of them even mentioned Harry during the evening, which was too striking to be fortuitous.  
  2. Casey didn’t even give Louis a hard time for being responsible for the prank 16 years ago. He really must have looked like shit. What finally convinced her was that no one would put that much effort into ruining her prom just to make it perfect for her later. Casey was nothing but a logical person after all.
  3. While Casey and Niall waited for Louis, quietly talking between themselves, Louis swore as he was stirring the tomato sauce in the kitchen, that he heard a familiar laugh, loud and barking in the background. He shook himself out of it.
  4. The plane ticket was right _there_ , taunting him every time he reached for something in the fridge. There was a reason Louis avoided the places Harry used to inhabit as much as possible.



It got worse in January, when his friends became significantly less available all of a sudden.

Zayn and Liam managed to have come back from vacation with _girlfriends_ (a fact Louis wasn’t envious about _at all_ ). _Sisters,_ to be precise. And apparently it was high priority to make the commute to Sackville to see Bri and Emmi every weekend.

Sackville. Harry would have made so many stupid jokes about a town with a name like that.

Way too soon, Louis began to run out of things to do. He wouldn’t go back to work until at least April — two months away — and the idea of being alone with his thoughts for that long made the panic spread through him like wildfire, an inescapable urge to run, escape, hide.

The thought of Harry triggered an ache that came and went, always manifesting itself in the quiet moments —  and now there were simply too many of those to count.

When he stopped to dwell for even a minute, his face became wet with tears. They rolled hotly in the seams of what used to be his laughter lines and finished their journey in his cracked lips, bitter and warm. Worse, every time Louis briskly wiped the tears from his eyes, he wished Harry was here to make him feel better, like he used to.

Even the woods no longer provided the comfort or distraction he desperately needed.

And _that_ , drove Louis to hate Harry more than anything in the entire world.

Hated him for screwing with his mind, for messing up the coping mechanisms he’d spent years crafting, for tearing down the walls he’d so thoroughly built up around himself.

For fucking up his whole life.

For bringing Louis back to square one.

For making Louis _need_ him.

He hated how fucking unbalanced he felt now, like he needed crutches to walk or a steady arm to hold him up, in the broken moments when his legs refused to hold his weight.

God, Louis missed him _so much_.

He missed his singing in the shower, and the weight of Harry’s arm slung over Louis’ waist when he’d first wake up. He even missed the obnoxious way Harry chewed gum.

Most of all, Louis missed Harry’s voice and the way he talked about every random thing known to mankind, with passion, and enthusiasm, and innocence, just like a kid would.

It was the happiest memories that hurt the worst, they were the ones that cut him deepest. Like dancing under soft light and crepe paper decorations or running, with Harry hot on his heels, around a school he knew so well, wanting to be caught.

It didn’t help that every corner of the house made Louis think of him now, and not in the way it used to — like Harry had invaded his space — but more like the house was lived in again, given a warm, homey, almost feminine vibe, with the candles and his books and his cooking recipes lying around. Like Harry had made himself at home.

When Louis closed his eyes, laying in bed, he could almost hear the soft cadence of Harry’s breathing while he waited for sleep to finally snatch him.

How on earth was Louis expected to deal with Harry’s ghost on top of Teddy’s?

Teddy. _Teddy._

Fuck.

It hit Louis then that it had been a while since he’d last thought of his late husband. Almost as if he’d been relegated to another part of Louis’ heart, one that was less raw, less tender, one that didn’t make his heart twitch in agony anymore.

After a while, missing Harry became a dull ache. Something he even thought he could live with. He knew how to miss someone, that was a torment he was prepared for.

He’d done it before, he could do it again. Distraction was key.

So when the silence became deafening, the radio became a permanent fixture in the house.

He also started to play Teddy’s guitar — no, scratch that, his own guitar. Harry had gifted it to him after all. It was _his_. Not anyone else’s. He could play it.

He strummed Aretha Franklin and The Rolling Stones and Britney Spears and the Beatles and every other song Harry had ever hummed in this house. He played for days, until his voice turned scratchy and his fingertips bled.

He didn’t think twice about it when he suggested rehearsing to the guys instead of their usual game night.

“Are you telling me ‘Splinters’ is back in business, Lou?” Niall said, excitedly, like he was ever a part of the original band in the first place.

Louis laughed, good-naturedly. “If you’re up for taking over at keys so I’m on guitar, then yes we are.”

“Hell yes!” Niall roared, one fist up in the air, soaring from the couch he had been sinking into.

They spent a Saturday loading Liam’s drums into the back of the truck and bringing them along to add to everyone else’s instruments in the barn as Louis wanted to turn a portion of it into a rehearsal space.

“Hey, no, not over there.” Louis said, instructing Liam and Niall to move the kick drum away from Harry’s worktable where his various tools still lay.

He lead Liam farther behind the haystacks, where it was a little more cramped but they would make do.

Instinctively, Louis went back and returned the set of Harry’s measuring tools Liam had knocked over when he pushed the table while the others were setting up the equipment.

As he gently laid them out, stroking a finger over a well-worn chisel, he slowly became aware of the silence and he felt the heavy presence of his friends behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Niall yelled at him then, startling Louis. “This is not Teddy’s closet all over again, you hear me?”

Niall’s face was contorted in muted rage and the fact that Liam was frowning and Zayn’s arms were folded over his chest told Louis he was up against all of them.

“What?” Louis protested faintly.

“Harry’s not dead. He’s a phone call away, a plane ride away, in fact,” Niall raised his eyebrows. “You’re still here, you’re alive, you didn’t die either. You could get your happily ever after if you wanted.”

_Always & Forever. _

“I— ” Louis said, at a loss for words.

Past and present melted together in a confusing, heart-wrenching manner and Louis wanted nothing more than to run, run until his lungs burned and his legs gave out.

He left the barn briskly, wiping at his fatigued, blood-shot eyes fiercely.

In Louis’ experience, everything that went up must come down eventually. No elated feeling could last forever. He knew. _He knew._

_Nothing gold can stay._

Not for him.

  

 

He was not proud to admit it, but Louis started Facebook stalking Harry — created an account for the sole purpose of it and found him, which was basically useless because most of what Harry posted wasn’t public anyway.

Harry’s profile banner was a picture of the view from his bedroom in Louis’ house, and that alone managed to make Louis feel warm again, like a comfort-shot directly needled into his veins.

Count on Harry to make him feel better even 3000 kilometers away.

Harry’s profile picture was a goofy one, with his face blackened by an oversized diving mask, grinning around the tube. Louis wondered idly what new adventures Harry had embarked on.

Did he smile fondly when he remembered Louis, or was it the kind of smile that squeezed Harry’s chest whenever Louis was mentioned?

Did he miss Louis even a fraction of how much Louis missed him?

Louis sat for way too long a time, tired-eyed and slumped over his computer, just staring at various pictures of Harry from years ago (Yes, Louis had also found his Instagram), just basking in his smile, his tousled brown hair, his porcelain skin Louis knew had the ability to flush red. The ache of longing to be with him gnawed at the chambers of his heart, it echoed through the very marrow of his bones.

He realized he didn’t want Harry to turn into a random image that floated in the pool of his memory, like Thomas had been for Winnie’s fragile brain.

  
  

 

The drive to Thomas’ house took more out of Louis than he expected, and it didn’t have anything to do with the weariness one might have felt at the thought of talking to a recent widower, no, the platitudes and the stiffness Louis was used to —  it simply felt too weird going there without Harry by his side.

He walked to the porch, the memory book heavy as lead in his hands, thinking Harry would know exactly what to say to ease up Louis’ guilty conscience; it had been too long since he had visited last.

He hugged his friend hello, and pretended not to want to tear his eyeballs out or sob like a baby while Thomas sat with trembling hands and misty, puckered eyes as he flipped through the pages of the book Harry had worked so hard on.

“He wanted to give it to you himself, but he didn’t have the chance,” Louis ventured. For some reason, it was hard saying Harry’s name out loud.

“I’m so thankful. I— ” Thomas inhaled deeply. “It’s like she left a piece of herself with me.”

Louis’ thoughts drifted to the plane ticket still pinned crookedly over the door of the fridge.

“I’m glad, then,” Louis responded, trying to keep the sorrow out of his voice.

Thomas eventually looked up. “Have you heard from him? Harry? How is he?”

“I haven’t heard from him, no.” Louis squirmed in his chair, feeling suddenly antsy.

“I see,” Thomas said and he had the air Niall too often sported, judgment wrinkling his forehead.

Louis sat down for hours with Thomas, reading, reminiscing, talking about the good old days the way Winnie saw them, all brought to life through Harry’s handwriting. Louis stayed, pretending he didn’t notice Harry’s absence or Winnie’s or Teddy’s — all the people mentioned in the book that weren’t there anymore.

“How have _you_ been?” Louis asked after a while.

“I’ve been better.” Thomas admitted, “But the grieving group helps. This helps too.” He trailed his fingers over the book.

Louis nodded. He’d never tried a grieving group, but now it didn’t feel like something he’d dismiss if he got a chance to go. Now he could just about admit there was no shame in needing help.

 _Everyone needs a little help sometimes. To grow, to heal._ Harry had said it a lifetime ago, and he couldn’t have been more right. At the time, it felt like Harry knew too much, was capable of reading him like an open book.

It wasn’t long after that, that Harry had managed to unravel the layers of thick skin Louis had grown around himself, he’d found the frozen, wounded heart buried in there and brought it back to life, unthawing it with every gentle touch and every word of praise.

The guilt though, the guilt sat on Louis’ chest. It was something he was finally able to put a name on. The guilt that he dragged around, like a ball and chain, preventing him from moving on.

Guilt for surviving an accident his husband wasn’t supposed to die from.

Guilt for catching feelings for someone else.

Guilt came to haunt him less frequently now that Harry was gone, but it was still there, making its presence known, weighing down every happy memory.

“Thomas,” Louis asked, tentatively, “If— if you met someone, not today obviously, but someday, if you met someone, would you think you were cheating on Winnie?”

“Probably.” Thomas said, his eyes narrowed as he studied Louis’ face, and Louis resisted the urge to squirm. Finally, Thomas’ gaze turned soft, “Ask me what you really want to ask, Louis.”

Louis breathed heavily out of his nose. “Do you think It would be cheating if I ran after Harry?”

It was heartwarming saying his name again, letting the letters roll off of his tongue like a melody.

“Absolutely not,” the old man smiled. “He’s a wonderful man, and he’s obviously smitten with you, too. What’s stopping you, really?”

“I don’t know. I think— the vows. We promised. Always & Forever, remember? And that means something to me, obviously. We always lived by it through thick and thin.” Louis’ chin didn’t tremble, neither did his voice.

It took a minute for Thomas to offer an answer. “I could tell you that it doesn’t sound like Teddy to want for you to be miserable, or that the reason people loved him so much was that he didn’t have an ego and that he was generous and kind and wanted the best for everyone he loved, and that includes you. I could tell you all that, but I think you already know it.”

Louis acquiesced. Teddy was indubitably a wonderful man. Someone Louis loved with all his heart for the better part of his life. Someone worthy of Louis’ affection.

“You forgot something significant about the vows, though.”

“What’s that?” Louis’ eyebrows pulled together, as he met his friend’s kind eyes.

“ _Until death do us part_ .” Thomas mused, “ _Until death do us part_ trumps _Always & Forever _.”

Thomas’ mouth turned into a smile as he added, “You deserve some sweet happiness, kid.”

“Forever ended with him.” The words, punched out of Louis’ mouth, seemed to unlock something in his heart that drained the tension from his body all of a sudden. That something made the ball of affection for Harry that Louis had tried desperately to shrink, to grow three sizes, making his chest expand.

He was not betraying Teddy by _being alive_. He was not cheating on his husband by moving on.

He could [ breathe again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2yPU5WPwZs). _He could breathe_.

Louis found himself at a crossroad then, where the past crossed paths with the future, where on one side Teddy’s ghost was fading away and waving at him, a content, appeased smile playing on his lips and on the other, there was Harry, solid, rooted in the ground like a two hundred-year old pine tree, with his arms open wide.

Louis knew in his heart of hearts it was time to choose now.

“Do you love him? Harry?”

Now, Louis could just about admit he had loved Harry, and that maybe Harry had loved him right back. There was no point denying it any longer.

“I love him.” Louis gasped and if he was about to cry it was for a whole other set of reasons than before.

There was a third road that didn’t meet the eye up front, a road where he could have both his memories and the promise of a future, it was darkened by wild, verdant foliage and thick branches, as new soil had gathered in the battered cracks, enough to entice the seeds to grow into luxurious, bright green that clashed over concrete grey.

Where Nature had reclaimed its rights over the asphalt.

It looked like it was a harder path to navigate, but given the chance, Louis would always answer the call of the forest.

So Louis chose the road less travelled by.

“I have to go, Thomas.” Louis rose to his feet, a sudden sense of urgency spurring him on. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, adrenaline coursing in his veins like fire, urging him to do something he could never do before. “Thank you for everything.”

In the truck, the first thing Louis did was speed dial his best friend and brother.

“Are you busy, Nialler?” Louis blurted out, out of breath, “Would you help me with something?”

There was no one else he would rather empty Teddy’s closet with.

  
  

 

When they first creaked open the closet door, they were hit by the familiar smell of him, cherry wood and gingerbread, mixed with dust and a hint of something rather stale.

Unlike Niall, who gasped, Louis had prepared himself for it so he didn’t flinch. Instead he let himself bask in a little bit of nostalgia at the view of plaid from end to end.

It was almost anticlimactic and underwhelming, opening something that he’d held onto for so long, and not being faced with a ghost.

There was not much there, aside from Teddy’s crumpled old clothes and shoes, mismatched socks and some of the sweets he used to hide around the house, like some kind of stashed contraband booze (as if Louis didn’t know he had a bit of a sweet tooth — please).

The clothes were just the evidence of the beautiful soul that wore them. Someone simple, handsome, but not in a striking way, and soft. So soft.

Putting them away in cardboard boxes felt like saying goodbye — something he never really got a chance to do, and how lucky Louis was to have known someone who was that hard to say goodbye to.

That was the feeling Louis decided to hang on to. The happiness to have known him at all, being loved by him when some people never met their soulmates, Louis had eighteen beautiful years with him.

Niall offered to bring the boxes to Goodwill, even though it became rather evident it was harder on him than he lead on.

“Hey.” Louis said, hand clasping around Niall’s wrist. “I’m sorry I acted like I was the only one losing him.” Niall nodded jerkily, eyes blinking rapidly. “Thank you for putting up with me and not like— giving up when I acted like an asshole.”

“That’s what family does.” Emotion flashed in Niall’s eyes. “We stick together, we don’t leave someone behind.”

Louis let go of Niall’s wrist, only to hug him as hard as he could. He hoped his fingers digging into Niall’s back conveyed everything he wanted to say.

“Thank you, brother.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m happy you’re moving forward.” Niall replied, voice brittle and scratchy before tilting his head to the side. “Does it mean what I hope it means?”

“What do you hope it means?” Louis grinned.

Niall matched his smile. “Do we need to apply for a passport?”

“Not yet,” Louis scrunched up his nose. “I think I still need to deal with some things. I don’t want to go unless I’m sure, I think I really broke his heart, so I can’t go unless I’m better. Besides, who knows if he stills wants me.”

“Come on now.”

Louis looked down, biting on the inside of his bottom lip. “It’s been two months— ”

“I guess you’ll have to have to check for yourself then,” Niall said. “Do some apologizing, some grovelling if you need to. I have a feeling Harry has a soft spot for grand gestures, since he planned a flawless one for me,” He smirked, nudging Louis in the ribs. “Are you scared?”

If Louis knew anything at all, it was that if he didn’t try, it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

And he’d had enough ghosts for a lifetime.

He owed it to Harry —  and to himself —  to try everything he could.

“No. I’m not scared. I’m not scared at all.”

  
  

 

Harry had been living in Montego Bay for three months — almost four, as a matter of fact —  when he realized, with a weight on his chest, that he didn’t have a next destination yet.

Sure, his supervisor, Holly, had offered to extend his contract but Harry had declined the offer, the mere thought of teaching more young, rich, and happy people in need of a vacation how to dive, turning his stomach.

Because Harry positively hated Jamaica.

Hated it with every fiber of his being, actually.

He hated its 31°C, and the sunny weather, the beaches with their disgusting white sand that burned the soles of his feet, and the repulsive turquoise clear water that was too damn warm to be refreshing.

He loathed swimming with the dolphins, and dipping in the countless romantic waterfalls during his time off, exploring _alone_.

He hated the easy-going, welcoming attitude of the locals and their accessible weed.

He despised the luxurious resort hotels with their open bars, fruity cocktails, and exotic music.

He resented the night life and everyone he knew hooking up and having flings and falling in love.

He hated Jamaica’s moon that didn’t provide any comfort at night.

He hated its sun that didn’t resemble Louis’ smile in the slightest, not even a little bit.

Not at all, in fact.

Still, because Harry was who he was, he acclimated. He made friends, learned to navigate the culture, he smiled, he went out, he played nice, he was also offered many — too many — possibilities for hookups that he politely declined one after the other.

Everyone paled in comparison to what love once looked like.

There was simply no salvation for his broken heart.

The first month, he had kept an eye on his phone at all times, hoping — no, _praying —_ that Louis would call or text or just give Harry a sign that he was still alive and not back to full recluse status. The thought had felt like an unscratchable itch inside of him that deeply unsettled him.

To remedy that, all Harry had needed was a sign that never came.

He put a lot of energy into silencing Niall’s voice that made itself heard in the back of his mind once in a while.

_You could call._

_You could come home and try._

_Coward._

_Why don’t you try?_

Sometimes, missing Louis was so excruciating that It felt like Harry’s _DNA_ hurt, the pain waiting for him everywhere.

Some days it felt like getting the wind knocked out of him after running into someone who wore the same cologne as Louis, then being trapped in a bubble of misery for two days afterwards.

Sometimes it was his chest shattering when he’d indulged in one of his rare, pathetic jerk off sessions with his nose buried in one of Louis’ shirts that he’d smuggled in his suitcase.

Perhaps the worst was remembering Louis’ pale blue eyes, his delicate wrists, the softness of his smile in the oddest moments, when no one was looking. The pain hit him most often just before Harry fully opened his eyes in the morning, when his hand wandered towards the other side of the bed and all he found were cold, rumpled sheets.

Even the regular Skype sessions he had with the boys didn’t help, as they kept their answers vague and non-committal whenever Louis was brought up, focusing on their own love lives (who the fuck cared about _their_ happiness? Not Harry; and he didn’t even feel an ounce guilty about that, which said a lot about how bitter he had become).

Eventually after a few weeks, Harry had stopped asking about Louis altogether, their answers always making him feel worse than before (hard to believe, since he was already miserable).

After that, he had forced himself to try and move on, for his own sanity.

He put the remnants of his heart into quarantine, buried it under a thick layer of ice.

Harry lived in sunny Jamaica now, but in all the ways that mattered, it was still very much winter in his heart.

  
  

 

Harry was earlier than usual for his 10 am shift at the dive centre, but the door of the modest wooden hut was already open when he went in, the now-familiar smell of neoprene hitting his nostrils.

He found Blandine there, the local girl he shared a good part of his working hours with. “Hey B. How’s it going?” He flashed her a genuine smile.

She glanced up from the Panache Magazine she was reading, feet propped up on the desk in front of her. “Slow right now, but we have several dives scheduled today. I asked Nick to take an extra shift. He’s coming in this afternoon.”

Harry hummed, reaching for the book where they logged in all their reservations so he could check which group he was going to take, when something caught his eye.

It was rectangular and shiny and it was precariously sitting on the edge of the desk by Blandine’s bare feet. At first glance it could have been mistaken for a postcard if Harry hadn’t thought the people on it looked familiar.

His people.

Without further thought about his clients, Harry snatched the picture off the desk with trembling fingertips and his breath caught up in his throat.

Posing in front of the Abateemat sign, were Niall, Zayn, Liam, and — Louis.

His Louis.

Except that, instead of posing before the city entry sign like all the people he’d met on the road before them, they were standing before the one that could be found on your way out of town.

 _Thanks for visiting Abateemat! Come back soon!_ It read.

Come back soon. _Come back soon._

And where Niall, Zayn, and Liam were all piled up on the floor pointing at the words and giving thoughtless, crinkled grimaces, Louis was standing on the side, his hands deep in his pockets, wearing a small smile and a thick green jacket.

“Where did you find this?” Harry asked Blandine, trying to keep his voice steady, “Did you open a letter for me or––?”

He couldn’t help but grow frantic as he flipped the photo over and didn’t find anything on the back.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, a guy dropped it here earlier, looking for you. There’s a note somewhere.”

Blandine seemed oblivious to Harry’s turmoil, flipping another page of the magazine until Harry promptly snatched it from her hands.

“I don’t see a note.” Harry hissed, cringing at his own impatience.

“Well, Océane was here cleaning earlier, maybe she trashed it. Sorry, man.” She shrugged and if Harry didn’t see her as a friend, he would have strangled her.

Maybe a change of tactics was in order.

“Who left it? What did he look like? Did he have brown hair?”

“I don’t know! It was just some guy! You know you white guys all look the same to me!” Blandine answered, growing annoyed.

Harry sighed at the girl’s uselessness, pinching the bridge of his nose. The air around him felt stuffy thanks to the humidity and the high temperature they were still experiencing despite rainy season being upon them soon.

“Was he bearded? Did he look like he could kill you with his bare hands despite having the softest eyes?”

“Nah.” By that point, Blandine looked like she was ready to either slap him or draw him a bath. “He was clean shaven, sweating in a plaid shirt, uncomfortable. Didn’t seem like he had seen the sun in a while.”

That made two of them, then.

“Louis.” Harry let the word tumble out passed his lips as recognition dawned on Blandine’s features.

“Is he _the_ guy?”

“Yes.”

Her face melted for a second, before she caught herself. “Harry, I’m sorry I can’t let you take the day off, you know we’re short-staffed since Clara called in sick.”

“I know,” Harry said, ”Besides I don’t know where he is.”

“He’ll come back for sure.” She said, even though it didn’t bring him any comfort. “He didn’t fly three thousand kilometers just to give up.”

Harry hoped she was right.

  
  

 

Sitting on Harry’s front step, Louis sweated his ass off for 8 hours and 28 minutes under an unblinking sun waiting for Harry to come home.

He spent four of those hours cursing Liam for suggesting jorts as a suitable pants choice for the Jamaican weather, two more hours were dedicated to calling himself stupid for listening to Liam in the first place, one to actually congratulate himself for the plaid Burberry shirt he’d purchased at the airport, and the rest was spent thinking over what he would say once Harry got home.

None of that time was devoted to regretting coming here in the first place.

“You’re here.” Harry’s voice sounded stunned, like he didn’t expect Louis to actually _be here_ , past his gated garden, on his doorstep, waiting.

And for some reason Louis hadn’t heard him coming, busy fixing his fringe for the millionth time that day, and mumbling under his breath the words he was preparing to say.

He was sitting on the second wooden step, too low to be comfortable, knees largely apart and his head hanging low between his shoulder blades, his fingertips clawed around an almost empty water bottle, trying and failing to shield himself from the sun, when he heard the familiar rasp of Harry’s voice.

Of course as soon as Louis heard it, every one of the words he’d carefully rehearsed flew out of his mind like they’d never been on the tip of his tongue ever.

“H— Hi.” Louis said, unsteadily, rising awkwardly to his feet and dusting off his (horrendous) jorts. They were truly a crime against fashion, and even if Louis knew nothing about fashion, he knew _that_ and he was sure Harry would agree if he asked. But now didn’t seem to be the right time.

When Louis had said to Niall two months ago that he wasn’t scared, it might have been wishful thinking, some kind of way to convince himself and muster some inner strength, because right now he felt like the earth was ready to swallow him. He pushed through, he had to. Too much was on the line.

“Hi.” Louis said again, with more assurance this time. He could feel the smile growing on his own face and he couldn’t help it, he just _wanted_ to smile, because Harry was here, in front of him, as gorgeous and perfect as ever, despite looking different than he once had.

Mainly, the light in his eyes seemed to have gone, like a time-jumping echo of his own empty ones not so long ago.

 _You did that to him._ Louis thought, before pushing the idea away. _No. Stay focused._ _Stay positive._

“You cut your hair.” Louis’ voice filled the silence, a task that generally had been reserved for Harry. Mainly because Harry’s sharp eyes were staring, boring a hole into Louis’ skull and he was purposefully not talking. He was just _here_ , watching unabashedly, taking his fill of Louis with the psycho killer look he’d got sometimes, Louis just didn’t know if it was a good sign or not.

Louis cleared his throat. “I like [the scruff](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DsZIxasWkAY2qMX.jpg), suits you.”

It was true. The facial hair, even though growing in patches, didn’t hide Harry’s angular jaw Louis used to love to nip at, and it gave Harry’s face the kind of edge that made him look both hot and maybe even a little bit dangerous.

Needless to say, it was working for Louis.

Harry’s nails scratching at his stubble was the only sign he had heard Louis at all.

“Needed a change.” Harry finally breathed out, low and gravelly. “Seems like you needed one too.” He gestured vaguely in Louis' direction and Louis couldn't help but feel self-conscious at that.

“Yeah, you could say that. I figured the caveman look wasn’t for me anymore.” He scratched at the back of his neck, like it would hide his smooth shaven cheeks or the [ very short salt and pepper hair exposed around his ears](https://78.media.tumblr.com/76a2f609e49f32f22bc58c0083df1923/tumblr_messaging_pf2ctmK8z11qf72w9_250.jpg).

It felt like shedding old skin when he’d shaved his face clean, and somehow, it was exactly what he’d needed, every tuft of soft hair hitting the floor had been like another weight off of his shoulders.

“How’d you get in?” Harry asked, voice quiet but not accusing.

When Harry hadn’t been at the dive centre that morning, Louis had decided to try finding him at home. Thanks to Niall, he knew where that was, and thanks to a man who was just leaving as Louis walked up, he was able to sneak past the gate before it shut. He soon realized Harry wasn’t at home, either, and just resolved to wait.

It only dawned on Louis now that it might be considered a bit creepy.

“Do you want me to go?” Louis asked, sincere. “I can go, just say the word.”

“You’re here.” Harry repeated, enunciating every word like it was supposed to ring a bell in Louis, “ _Trespassing_.”

“I’m here.” Louis chewed on his lip to keep the smile out of his voice a bit but he ended cracking a smile anyway — and so did Harry. A small curve that eased the tightness in Louis’ throat instantly.

_There you are._

“I met some of your colleagues earlier, they seem nice.” Louis politely said, just so he wouldn’t do something reckless —  like jump into Harry’s arms. “Do you like your new job?”

“No.” Harry was still standing in the gate entrance but the distance seemed to shrink at that. “I hate it, I hate everything about this place.”

“I hate how lonely my bed is without you.” Louis blurted out, and it was not how he planned to start this conversation, and it was far from the most important thing he had to say but now that it was out of his mouth, floating in the charged air between them, it seemed like as good a starting point as any, given where Louis was coming from.

Harry’s response consisted of a squint, and Louis wanted to reach out and smooth the line between his eyebrows. “Is this why you’re here, then? Because you miss the sex? Did you use my plane ticket for a fuck?”

Harry’s voice was laced with dullness like a man who’d fought too many battles and there was something defeated about his posture, like weariness or mistrust, and Louis hated that he was responsible for it. The fact that he had turned the most open person on the planet into someone suspicious fed the guilt Louis already carried within his bone marrow.

“Can we maybe talk?” Louis rushed, feeling his window closing, the panic swimming in his gut like acid, “Can I come in? Please?”

“You want to talk, then talk.” Harry said, lips tightening, and he sounded so businesslike that it made Louis’ stomach churn. “I’m listening.”

Okay. If Harry wanted to do that here, out in the open, if he didn’t want to invite him in, it was only fair, Louis supposed. It just felt a little bit more public than what he’d first envisioned, but he was willing to do it.

He was ready to jump through every hoop he was faced with in order to get Harry back.

He drew in a breath and blew a long, slow exhale that made his cheeks puff out.

“When you came into my life, I wasn’t ready for you.” Louis began, while Harry settled against the metal gate, eyes unreadable. “I just— I promised myself that I would never let myself _need_ someone so much again, that I would never feel that helpless again.”

Louis searched Harry’s face for an encouraging sign, eyes darting from his sullen eyes to his pursed lips.

Despite Harry’s attitude, Louis pushed on, not letting it deter him. He felt like he had been quiet for too long anyway, he simply had to say the words now. _Had to_.

“I couldn’t breathe at all when Teddy died.” Louis murmured, forcing himself to keep eye contact despite the phantom pain that licked at his heart. “And somehow I thought that if I didn’t let myself grow attached to you it would be easier when you finally left. But things didn’t go as planned, did they?”

Harry’s fingers twitched at his sides and his lips parted, like he was about to talk, but ultimately changed his mind.

_Again. Try again._

“When we met, my heart was as cold as ice. but you, Harry,” Louis said, words a little less brittle than before. He felt the beginning of a smile stretch his face despite the heaviness of the moment. “you made it thaw with your smile, and your warmth, your compassion, and your terrible, _terrible_ sense of humour.”

There was a twitch tugging at the corners of Harry’s mouth and Louis wanted to build on that, turn it into a genuine smile.

_Try harder._

“You know that cheesy shit people say? Like _you mended my broken heart_? That’s a load of crap.” Louis said pointedly, “This is not what you did at all. You slid in between the cracks seamlessly and nested, planted roots, expanded, and you took all the space there until I was whole again.”

The cracks were still visible, like lines on old skin that showed where you had been, but Louis’ heart was still beating, unbelievably hard and incredibly fast — like he was alive again, like he was 17 again.

Thanks to Harry, he didn’t feel like a shadow of who he’d once been.

Not anymore.

“And the thing is, my heart is twice as big now and I have all this love to give and no one to give it to, do you see my problem, Harry?”

Louis felt the crinkles at the corner of his eyes deepen, aching a little from disuse as he kept smiling at the man he cared so much about, at the man he owed so much to. The only one who’d proven capable of salvaging his heart.

“I see it.” Harry’s voice was garbled, wet with unshed tears but his smile was very much growing and the flicker in his eyes was coming back full force.

_There you are, baby._

Now that the floodgates were open, it seemed like the words couldn’t be held back anymore, spilling out of Louis’ mouth like an overflowing sink. And judging by the way Harry seemed to hang on his every word, maybe he ached to hear the words as much as Louis needed to say them, _all_ of them.

“Most of all, I want to apologize.” Louis said, between shaky, ashamed breaths.

_No turning back now._

“I spent a lot of time reviewing all the ways I treated you like an outsider and I’m so sorry.” Louis’ voice rose and it was a testament to how angry he still was at himself, his fist clenching around nothing. “I’m sorry that I _ever_ made you feel like you didn’t belong in my home.”

_Or in my heart._

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner too. I just— I cleaned up the barn and I cleared out a real space for your carpentry stuff.” Louis said just in case the words weren’t enough, he wanted to bring some actions to the table. “It’s not huge and you have to share with Jasper but it is yours if you want it. I didn’t do it to be presumptuous, just to make you feel like you have a space.”

_Your space, in a house that is also yours now._

Louis watched as Harry looked like a deer caught in the headlights of his truck, eyes wide open. “And I got rid of the sofa you hated, you know the one that hurt your neck? I tried to move it around but in the end I just tossed it. You can choose a new one.”

When Louis first let the feeling of Harry’s absence wash over him three months ago, he felt nothing like how he had when Teddy had passed — helpless and desperate. No, it felt like unfinished business, like a house built for a purpose then abandoned. And Louis soon realized he had the power to turn _these_ tables around.

“If you come home, I don’t want you to sleep in the bedroom I used to share with him, I emptied it all. I’m turning it into something — I don’t know what. I’m open to suggestions.” Louis took a breath, trying to steady his voice, he knew his chin was trembling, emotion and heaviness gnawing on him, but he couldn’t care less. “And if it’s not enough, and if you want to move — we can do that too.”

Hoping his revelations would convey how serious he was, how important Harry was to him, Louis took a step forward, then another, towards Harry.

He shrugged helplessly, not daring to close the distance all the way, if Harry wasn’t willing meet him halfway.

He had more, so much more to say, and he could talk for hours if Harry let him. He could talk in length about loss and guilt and forgiveness, about grief and sorrow and loneliness.

He chose to talk about love instead.

“I love you,” Louis spilled, butterflies flapping their wings against his ribcage like mad. “Loved you even when my stupid brain didn’t let me.” He let out a bitter, shaky laugh, before locking his gaze with Harry’s. He saw Harry flinch and falter, his efforts at composure flying out the window, his lips falling slack, obviously caught off guard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know how to be loved then, but I think I do now.”

Louis watched as Harry closed the distance between them in three quick strides. He couldn’t move as Harry wrapped his arms around his waist and let out a sound between a sob and a whine. Every one of Louis’ breaths brought in fresh scented pine and honey and Harry and _home_.

“Say it again.” Harry rumbled onto the crown of Louis’ head, nose buried deep in his hair.

“I love you.” Louis mumbled against Harry’s throat, and this time his hands were steady enough to trail over Harry’s tanned forearms, to feel the goosebumps there, and then loop around his neck.

“Say it with my name.” Harry pleaded, fingers digging in Louis’ sides like splinters.

It made Louis’ heart clench hearing that request, like somehow Harry needed the reassurance that the words were meant for him and him only. It served as a reminder of all the things Louis still had to get off his chest.

Still, Louis indulged him and let the words trip off his tongue. “I love you, _I’m in love with you_ , Harry. Harry. _Harry_.”

Harry’s muffled whimper made it painfully clear how starved for Louis’ affection Harry had been until then. Louis promised himself to correct that, starting immediately.

Harry’s hands framed Louis jaw, his thumbs clenching around his chin, almost bruisingly, like Harry was afraid Louis was going to flee at any moment.

_Not anymore._

For long beats, Louis let Harry stare at him while they shared damp breaths, until finally Harry leaned in and kissed him.

Louis couldn’t go any longer without kissing him back, his hands grabbed onto Harry’s shirt, his arms, around his neck, just to make sure that Harry was there, that Harry was _his_.

Louis’ entire body was taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief. Static settled in Louis’ mind, rendering it mellow and quiet — devoid of guilt or second thoughts —  as he felt Harry’s tongue slide against his own.

Eventually, Harry came up for air, but he didn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Louis’ and keeping his eyes closed. “I never got to kiss you goodbye. It’s a thing I’ve regretted ever since I left. The last time I kissed you, I didn’t know that would be it, you know? I didn’t get to savor it, I didn’t get to have a souvenir to hold on to, I don’t remember our last kiss and it’s been driving me crazy.”

To illustrate his point, Harry dove in again, ravishing Louis’ mouth, sucking on his bottom lip until Louis felt his knees buckle under his weight.

God, Louis had forgotten how overwhelming it was just to kiss Harry, how plush and velvety his lips were, how simultaneously hot and weak Louis felt all over because of them.

“I missed you so fucking much.” Harry pushed him against the front door, voicing a moan against Louis’ lips, before he fumbled for his keys.

It also had slipped Louis’ mind how fast Harry turned desperate, every time that they so much as touched. The thought sent shivers down his back all the way to the tips of his toes.

The door opened to a small living room with a purple sofa that Louis didn’t get to comment on, because Harry was attacking his neck possessively, a greedy hand already loosening up his belt. “Need you right now, just— missed being inside you.”

“Wait. I wasn’t done talking. You of all people should appreciate me wanting to verbalize stuff.” Louis said while he tried to push back against Harry’s broad torso, but Harry just tightened his hold around Louis’ middle, bringing their crotches together.

“Talk later.” Harry said, licking a long stripe over the side of Louis’ throat.

Louis whined, indulging in another wet kiss. “Fuck, this is so unfair.” Harry’s scruff was tingling his skin while he rutted against Louis’ hip, his cock pressing against the denim of Louis’ shorts.

Harry lifted him off the ground, hands firm on Louis' thighs. Louis just curved his legs arounds Harry’s waist on instinct, his head wrapped in a fuzzy loop of arousal as Harry lead them to his bedroom and dropped him over the bed, unceremoniously.

“Okay.” Louis said, landing on his back and shaking his head in an attempt to clear his head a bit, which he deemed an impossible task, since Harry dragged his hand through his hair, then reached back and pulled his t-shirt off. Louis scooted back and propped up so he was level with Harry’s puffy nipples that way, and with Harry’s necklace sweetly snuggled between his pecs. The view of his smooth, tattooed chest, and his dirty, lopsided grin was as enticing as it had always been; Louis had to cup himself, just to take some of the edge off.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot,” Louis said to the ceiling. “Where are your condoms?” Louis asked, voice shot.

Harry’s face snapped up. “Oh Shit.”

“Noooooo! Don’t tell me— ”

“Why would I be needing condoms when I’ve been pining over a stubborn lumberjack for months?”

That was an excellent point, actually. One that made Louis smile unbelievably wide and tug at Harry’s shorts so he would lie down beside Louis.

He resisted a bit though, as Louis’ smile turned into a giggle and Harry’s pout dissolved into a reluctant semi grin before he laid on his side.

“Maybe this is a sign we should talk some more, baby.” Louis commented, sliding onto Harry and plonking his elbows over Harry’s naked chest.

“Or it’s a sign I should blow you.” Harry said, words tail-ending in a chuckle. It was obviously a joke, but Louis poked him in the ribs anyway. Harry grabbed the offending finger then brought it to his lips, dropping a soft, loving kiss on it.

“Call me baby again.” Harry requested sheepishly.

“I’ll call you baby as much as you want me to, baby.” Louis said, landing a peck on his kiss-swollen mouth.

“You know I got tested not so long ago. All clean. And I haven’t had sex since us.” Harry said, biting on Louis’ finger with mirth dancing in his eyes.

Louis’ cock jumped in his shorts.

“Interesting.” Louis mused, letting the fingers of his other hand gently move towards Harry’s happy trail, “I’ve only had sex with two people and you’re one of them.”

Harry smiled like the cat that got the cream. “Interesting.”

“Indeed.”

In one swift move, Harry toppled them over, so he was now laid on top of Louis’ body and Louis opened his legs immediately to accommodate him.

“I fully intend to take my time with you, gorgeous.” Harry smirked, slow and dirty. “I’m going to make you come so many time the only thing you will remember tomorrow is my name.”

Harry’s breath was hot against the corner of Louis’ mouth and the fine hair around his jaw was tickling Louis’ skin deliciously, making him shiver.

“I expect you to give my thighs beard burns with that new look you’re sporting.” Louis warned, trailing the back of his fingers against Harry’s cheeks.

Harry let out a whine from deep in his throat. “God, _Yes_.”

“How do you want me, then?” Louis could hear his own voice turning even more hoarse than before, his erection making itself known in regular, spark-inducing twitches.

“Get up, take off your clothes.”

Without further request, Louis got to his feet, toeing off his Vans, unceremoniously.

“Slowly.” Harry chastised, leaning on the headboard.

He had the fly of his shorts open and the outline of his erect cock was visible through his boxers in the V of the zipper. Louis couldn’t look elsewhere if he tried, his eyes glued to the small wet spot on Harry’s underwear. His own poor, neglected cock appeared determined to find some attention, twitching and jerking of its own accord.

“You want a show?” Louis cocked an eyebrow.

“I want everything. Now I just need to reacquaint myself with your perfect body.”

Louis felt himself flush at the flattering words; he also felt a little unsteady and self-conscious, unsure if he was able to strip himself bare physically after doing so emotionally, right there, in broad daylight, but Louis supposed that was the whole point.

“Okay.” Louis exhaled, his fingers twitching around the buttons of his shirt slowly, he peeled it from his back then, in a move he hoped was sexy.

“Turn around, I want to see your pretty back.” Louis squirmed at Harry’s authoritative voice and complied instantaneously. “Go on, take off the rest of your clothes.”

After popping off the buttons of the offensive shorts, Louis hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and slowly, ever so slowly, started to push both the shorts and his underwear past the roundness of his bum, stopping right under it, before looking right back at Harry.

“Like what you see?” Louis asked, glancing back from under his eyelashes, turned on like never before.

“Mmmmh.” Harry confirmed and Louis let out a whimper as he realized Harry had pushed his hand down inside his underwear and was crudely squeezing his prick, the head tenting the boxers obscenely. “Best ass I’ve ever seen, sweetheart.”

Louis’ shorts and underwear fell to his feet and he stepped out of them, turning around so Harry could take his fill of his body, cock bobbing as he moved closer to the edge of the bed.

“Take your cock out, I want to see you, too.” Louis said, finding confidence in the way Harry was staring at Louis’ dick: so hungrily that Louis felt completely and utterly _adored._

Harry scrambled to get his clothes off but his shorts and underwear ended up around his knees as his hand instantly curled around his cock again and he let out an impatient sigh.

Harry looked so hot like this. Shoulders tense, stomach muscles clenched up tight as his dick flexed into his palm minutely, kicking out a dribble of precome, balls full and heavy and mouth hanging ajar as he let out low grunt after low grunt. His hips shifted and rolled restlessly as he seemed to chase his release.

“Want me to just stand here and look pretty?” Louis mused, fingers skittering down his hard nipples then over his ribcage all the way down to his own hard on. “You promised me some beard burns.”

“Come here.” Harry panted, letting go of his prick to crawl over to Louis and pull him hastily into his chest. “I could look at you all day, but now I want you to sit on my face, are you up for that?”

“ _Yes_.” Louis’ entire body was burning up with desire.

Louis let Harry arrange his legs around his face as he pleased, and Louis squirmed as he felt Harry’s breath tickling around the hottest part of his body — not touching, just roaming, incredibly close and infuriatingly far all at once. Louis jerked his hips back in an attempt to connect his hole to Harry’s lips, before Harry put him out of his misery and pulled Louis’ thighs down onto his face hungrily.

Louis fought hard not to put all of his weight onto Harry’s face and just — smother him with how much he needed Harry’s mouth on him –– instead he took leverage against the wall behind the headboard, his head hanging low, and watched Harry’s eyes flutter shut as he got lost in the feeling of Louis’ flesh under his tongue.

He could feel Harry’s scruff scratching at the sensitive flesh on the inside of his thighs, felt it reddening at every movement of Harry’s jaw and tongue, he melted as Harry reached past the first ring of muscle to tongue at it with fervor, deep and slow.

“Fingers,” Louis yelped, slapping at Harry’s hands clasped tight around his upper thighs, “ _Fingers,_  baby. Give me your fingers.”

Louis had never been too keen on fingering, preferring being entered slow and steady instead of being opened up beforehand, but with Harry he found himself wanting to prolong the feeling, wanted his long — impossibly long —  fingers moving around his ass, reaching in places Louis never could on his own.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, reaching blindly for the lube inside his bedside table drawer and and coating his fingers liberally — all of that without so much as detaching his mouth from Louis’ rim.

On top of being a great ass-eater, Harry surely was a great multi-tasker.

Harry grabbed both of Louis’ cheeks and pulled them apart roughly, digging in around his wet hole then scissoring his long fingers in Louis’ ass, carefully stretching him while rubbing his chin over the inside of Louis’ asscheeks. It was a tight fit, but Harry managed.

“Fuck,” Louis rumbled when Harry found his prostate then prodded at it with intent.

“Don’t come yet.” Harry warned, when Louis’ noises turned too needy, “you’re coming on my cock, babe.”

“Then get to it, because I’m really close as it is.”

Harry stopped his ministrations (and Louis didn’t whine at the loss — he had some dignity, thanks) then grabbed Louis by the waist, hauling him upward so Louis was properly on his knees, back to Harry, palms pressed flat to the wall.

Harry then draped himself all over Louis’ back, placing a hand over one of Louis’ own, squeezing hard.

“Ready sweetheart?” Harry asked into the flesh of Louis’ shoulder, the head of his cock already breaching him as Louis acquiesced.

The feelings that overwhelmed Louis when Harry entered him bare for the first time were indescribable. Harry’s dick felt huge, but it didn’t hurt, exactly —  if it was ever going to hurt it would have been when Louis climbed over Harry’s lap and fucked himself onto his cock, the first time they had sex. Back then, it had felt all but impossible, trying to fit that cock inside of him. But he wanted it so badly, so desperately, he wouldn't have backed down even if the thing had split him in two.

Harry entered him slowly, giving Louis the time to adjust at first and Louis didn’t resist when Harry pulled at his hips, pushing in the rest of the way with more force, landing rough hisses against the nape of Louis’ neck.

“Always so impatient,” Louis laughed breathily, nosing back into Harry’s scruff, breathing him in.

“What can I say, you’re too sexy for me to handle,” Harry’s words were muffled behind his ear, where the skin was more sensitive and where Harry could breathe in the smell of him.  “God, you feel so amazing.”

Harry let his hands wander across Louis’ chest, tweaked at his nipples as he pistoned in and out of Louis, pressing harder with every thrust as deep as he could go.

Louis was shaking through it and Harry was holding him, keeping him up straight with his strong arms under Louis’ armpits, his teeth set into Louis’ shoulder, muffling his groans.

Louis threw his head back on a moan when he came, Harry’s hands solid on his hips, honeyed words tripping out of Harry’s mouth immediately.

“You’re so fucking incredible.” Harry panted, chasing his own release. Louis had to force himself not to melt into the sheets, feeling boneless from the orgasm. “You’re— How did I go so long without you? You’re still so pretty like this, _God._ ”

“Love you so much, baby.” Louis said because he could, because it felt good to voice those words after all these months keeping his feeling under lock and key, his head lolled back into Harry’s shoulder, bouncing from Harry’s thrusts into him.

Harry made a low, broken sound as he spilled deep inside Louis, hauling him into his chest, growling like a caveman.

Louis felt completely spent, sweaty, and gross with come but he only took a few heaving breaths before rolling to his side, with an approving hum. “Come here and hold me.” Louis said, arms held up like a child wanting to be picked up.

“We should clean up.” Harry said, but he eased into Louis’ embrace easily, his erratic heartbeat doing all the talking for him against Louis’ skin.

“Later.” Louis smiled tiredly.

They had all he time in the world.

Louis drifted off with his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, Harry nuzzling tenderly at his skin with all of their limbs twisted together in a messy sprawl, the breathing of his second chance at love lulling Louis to sleep.

  
  

 

Sated and happy, Louis woke up encompassed in the circle of Harry’s arms. They must have shifted position somewhere in the past hours because Harry’s leg was draped over his middle and his skin felt sweaty in all the place they were in contact.

Louis completely and utterly loved it. In fact, he hadn't slept that well in ages.

He yawned, wondering what time it was and realizing the sun was only just setting now on the Jamaican horizon, painting the sky with pink and amber.

“Good nap?” Louis asked softly, lips grazing Harry’s temple when he felt him shifting.

Eyes still firmly closed, Harry hummed, smile all but small. “The best. It’s a miracle given how much I loathe this bed.”

Louis frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Mainly It didn’t have you in it until today.” Harry huffed pointedly, his eyes fluttering open.

“Big letdown, that.” Louis tried to school his features into something resembling seriousness but he failed miserably, letting the smile take over his face completely.

“I know.” Harry’s smile matched his own. “Come here, gimme a kiss, I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Harry reached over to him before Louis could say anything to that — not that he was going to protest anyway.

They kissed, slow and lazy, their mouths gliding over each other smoothly, as the smell of sex still lingered in the damp air of Harry’s room.

Harry captured Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth and traced his tongue over it, teasing and sensual.

“Mmmmh.” Harry said, Louis’ lip popping out of his mouth with an indecent sound, “I could go for round two.” He carefully inspected the lovebites and beard burns that were still visible on Louis’ tender thighs, cooing at every one of them like it was some kind of accomplishment. “We could stay in this bed for a week, what do you say?”

Louis’ stomach rumbled then. Loudly.

Harry laughed, his head tipping back. “Hungry?”

“You have no idea, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday! My stomach was in knots.”

Harry let out a low chuckle at Louis’ explanation, before getting to his feet. “While you clean up, I’ll cook you something, you’re going to need all your strength for what I have in mind for the rest of the evening.”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Harry smacked Louis’ ass playfully. Louis groaned at that, pulling his boxers up his legs. Harry didn’t bother putting anything on, walking as shamelessly as the day that he was born, his perky ass swinging from side to side.

It was nice and familiar watching Harry fix them a meal in this small, foreign place. After a quick clean up, Louis got to watch every muscle of Harry’s back work as he flipped the omelette in the frying pan — it would look absolutely domestic if he wasn’t only wearing an apron and his cute, toned ass wasn’t visible below the bow.

That view was a test of Louis’ self restraint.

Forget hunger, Louis craved to have a feel of that ass with every fiber of his being.

He found that it was getting harder by the minute not to just bend Harry over the table and make him just — take it.

Louis’ mouth flooded with saliva.

He swallowed it back. There was plenty of time for that later.

They ate together, relaxed and comfortable, talking about everything and nothing of substance. Louis let Harry steal his mushrooms and Harry leaned over the table twice just to steal a kiss. They giggled and sighed for no good reason at all, except for the fact they both felt relieved and happy just being together in the same space again.

And even if the sex didn’t solve anything before, it at least helped take some of the edge off, helped them get reacquainted with each other’s presence — in the most primal way.

Still, they didn’t know where they stood any more now than they did a few hours earlier and Louis couldn’t let Harry drag him to bed again before they did (they were well on their way to that, Harry having pulled Louis onto his lap, hands roaming everywhere they could reach — which was everywhere.)

Louis steadied Harry’s hands and brought them together to land a dry kiss over them.

“Hey. Can we talk now?”

“Sure.” Harry said easily, squeezing Louis’ hand reassuringly before Louis found his seat across the table again — there was no way they would talk with Harry’s cock starting to fatten up under Louis’ ass.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay. I don’t think I told you that. I should have, but I thought like — maybe a little part of me still thinks it, too — even if Niall said it’s stupid. But like—  part of me thought you were better off.” Louis’ admission was small and wavering. “You love travelling and seeing new thing and meeting new people and I— well, my life is small and boring.”

He’d struggled over this with Teddy, too.

Because why on earth would two extraordinary men like them want to tie themselves down to someone as utterly underwhelming as him? It was something he often asked himself. He loved his simple life just fine, he just wondered if it was _enough_ for Harry. So, of course, he would needs the reassurance, especially since Harry hadn’t voiced anything about his own feelings or intentions yet. That fact, was also starting to eat a him a little bit, even if he had a good feeling about the outcome. Harry wouldn’t lead him on like this.

“Hey.” Harry rasped, concern colouring his features, “Abateemat has everything that I want, Lou. It has _you_ . And there is _nothing_ small about you. I mean, _you_ are small, but everything else is big: your heart, your truck, your woods—  your cock.”

“Shut up!” Louis guffawed nudging Harry’s arm, Harry just held on to Louis’ hand and tugged so Louis had no other choice than to stand up and let himself be dragged onto Harry’s lap again.

“Seriously though. I don’t want to hear you say shit like that.” Harry said, squeezing Louis’ middle.

Louis wasn’t going to lie, the fact that Harry couldn’t spent so much as five minutes straight without them touching in some capacity was something that he really, _really_ reveled in, especially after all these months apart, starved for his presence. It made his heart swell — and chant –– like a singing bird.

“I live a small life, but I want to share it with you.” Louis said, shaky. “ Better?”

Harry nuzzled into Louis’ cheek, tender and soft. “Not quite, but getting there.”

Harry rocked them lightly for a few minutes, running his fingers up and down Louis’ back and his sides, tracing his ribs, in a consoling, reassuring way, and it was Harry steady heartbeat that did the trick of calming Louis more than his hands this time.

Eventually Harry stood up and cleared their plates, disappeared for a few minutes only to  come back with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt on, his hair damp from the shower — which was a good thing, all in all, if they were going to have a serious conversation, but also it was just — sad. Harry walking around _not_ naked was sad.

Not to mention a waste of clothes. Not ecologically friendly at all, that.

“You know, I’ve heard you apologize plenty today, but you’re not the only one that made mistakes.” Harry said resting his hands on Louis’ shoulders.

Louis rolled his eyes. As if Harry’s errors could compare to any of Louis’. They almost cost them their relationship after all.

“No, I’m serious, Lou. I was just thinking, I have to tell you how sorry I am for not being more understanding about Teddy.” Harry kept his eyes trained downwards, while he tangled and untangled his fingers together, “It felt like— I know that it makes me horrible, but I was so jealous of him— still am, a little bit, if I’m being honest, because our relationship felt like we were in some sort of weird cosmic menage à trois. I _know_ how irrational that is too. Just— ”

“ _Baby_ ,” Louis shook his head. “It wasn’t irrational. My behavior led you to react like that, I had so much unresolved shit then. I acted like a cheater, no wonder you felt like a mistress.”

Louis brought the tip of his fingers to Harry worried lips, caught between his teeth, until he nodded slowly.

“Do you— Are you feeling better now?”

Louis sighed heavily as he reviewed the past few months in his head, thinking over his response. He knew what Harry was asking : _Am I going to feel like second best again? Am I going to regret this?_

“I joined a support group with Thomas and other widowers,” Louis admitted. It still affected him, referring to himself as a widower, but he could say it without his voice being strangled now. “I don’t talk that much, but I listen, and hearing other people that went through the same struggles as I did talk about it and say that it _does_ get better, saying that the guilt and the anger eventually go away, that they deserve a chance at happiness, it helps.”

It meant that Louis too, could hope for a happy ending after all.

Louis’ smile was shaky but it was there as he continued.

“So now I can accept that I was married to a wonderful man that passed away and that somehow I lucked out. Lightning struck twice for me, the universe dropped _you in my woods_ and it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I got my [ salvation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IEMnWhT_7c), even though I almost let you slip away.”

Harry’s smile was tempered with sadness as he squeezed Louis’ hand in a way that meant _It’s okay,_ _I understand, I forgive you._

“I have some confessions of my own, you know, you’re not the only one that did some soul searching while we were apart,” Harry said after a beat, “I was a coward, I didn’t stay when I could have, and for the longest time I told myself I didn’t because you didn’t want me, but I was too scared to put my heart on the line first, like you’re doing now. And thank God for that. Although, I was nearing the end of my rope, I was this close to snapping, I would have gone back to Canada and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass myself, eventually.”

Louis’ heart somersaulted in his chest, swelling with happiness so much he didn’t pause to think about what would have happened if the tables were turned.

“I love you.” Louis said, looping his arms around Harry’s neck, combing his fingers in the damp hair in his nape.

“I love you too, God I just realized I haven’t said it yet, have I?” Harry confessed, lips squished against Louis’ forehead, “I’ve loved you for months, loved you when I hated you so much I couldn’t say your name. Love you right now. Love you always.”

Louis stiffened a bit at that. “That’s another thing I want to talk about.”

Harry smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk this much.” He teased, lifting some of the heaviness that settled in the room.

“I need to tell you some things. Things I need you to be okay with, they’re part of me, even if they make me somewhat of a lunatic. I don’t know if— God I hope you’ll still love me even if—”

Louis took a breath.

As if he heard Louis’ silent plea, Harry squeezed him tightly against his chest making it hard for Louis to breathe. Crushed against Harry’s ribs, Louis realized that the quiet gesture was Harry’s way of saying that Louis could tell him anything. And somehow, Louis believed it, he felt ready to take that leap of faith, ready to lay it all out on the table. He’d never felt more cared for than right then.

He felt loved. Just _loved_.

“Teddy and I, we promised Always & Forever to each other,” His eyes felt wet at the corners, but Harry thumbed at the first tears gently, “I lived by these words for over a decade, and that’s why I felt so guilty, wanting you that much, it felt like a betrayal of my wedding vows. and I know how hard that’s been on you but—  I can’t promise you forever.”

Harry’s eyebrows knitted into a frown.

“I _won’t_ promise you forever, but I can promise you right now, living our lives to their fullest. I’m done living in the past.” Louis exhaled a shaky breath, “I love you Harry, but I’ll probably never want to get married again and I need you to be okay with that too, so if you wanted to like— live your life with me, and _not_ marry me and maybe do so for the rest of your life? and if maybe you could also promise I would die before you as an extra precaution? Like, that would be great?”

He let out a sound between a laugh and cry and he couldn’t help it, he didn't know how else to voice that crippling, irrational fear that paralyzed him, drove him to make the most stupid mistakes and led him to almost lose Harry for good.

He knew how crazy he sounded, but he would rather tell the truth now, hoping that Harry would understand, _trusting_ Harry would understand that his biggest fear was being left behind again.

Harry’s hands cupped around his jaw, and his eyes were imploring when he talked next.

“Louis, I’m only at the beginning of loving you and I plan to do it for a very very _very_ long time, but if it ever comes to that, I promise I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Louis laughed through the tears, pressing his head against Harry’s sculpted chest, relishing in the firm muscle there and taking in the steady, reassuring beat of Harry’s heart.

“There was a time when I thought that the worst thing in life was getting too comfortable for too long. Part of me was scared shitless of sitting still, but I’m tired of running around the world, you know? It’s in your arms that I realized how lonely that life had made me. So, I _want_ to go home with you. I want to plant some roots, find my dream job, maybe have a family someday if—  if you want that with me.”

Louis bit at his bottom lip, the tips of his ears turning hot.

“I do,” Louis exhaled, without missing a beat.

It felt like— not like exchanging wedding vows exactly, but like something equally significant, a promise of their own. The sign he had been waiting for all along, the love he had prayed for for months, like a coming home of some sort — no, a new beginning.

In Harry’s peaceful embrace, with his fingers curled into the fabric of Harry’s shirt, Louis felt the storms of his heart calming, started to believe that there was nothing out there to fear — there was only hope for the future, and—

The future had never looked so bright.

Wordlessly, Harry led them to the bed they’d christened earlier. Every wonderful emotion Louis saw on Harry's face —  relief, hope, love — he knew were mirrored on his own.

Slowly, Harry eased Louis down onto the bed with him and it was impressive how gentle Harry was with him this time, like he couldn’t believe what just happened between the two of them.

Louis sighed as Harry’s hands roamed around his body, his lips grazing Louis’ in a delicate kiss. He felt warm under Harry's hands, continuously finding new, sensitive spots on Louis’ body, as if he was exploring every inch of his skin. His head spun with words in an endless loop of _love_ and _safe_ and _happy_.

It spurred Louis to push closer. Always closer. He was determined not to let an inch separate them now. His hands slid up Harry’s arms, stopping where the sleeves of his t-shirt began, and Harry kissed him more firmly this time, opening his lips just slightly so that he could get Louis’ bottom lip between his, sucking gently until Louis’ fingers dug into his upper arms.

Louis was the one to deepen the kiss, coaxing a soft gasp out of Harry that turned into a full moan once Louis squeezed his ass with intent. Something ticked in Louis’ chest as he got a flash of Harry wearing that stupid apron of his with nothing underneath, toned ass twitching under the cute little bow with every one of his movements.  

He gave Harry’s cheeks another meaningful squeeze as he stared, openly at Harry, cataloguing every one of his reactions. Harry stared back just as intently.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, not unlike the first time they had sex. Louis didn’t have any clue back then, he only knew he was consumed by desire and that he needed to have Harry, feel his lips, touch his skin — anything.

They had come a long way since then, he realized.

“You,” Louis simply said, making sure he illustrated his words by rutting his fattening cock in the jut of Harry’s hip.

“You’re insatiable.” Harry teased —  as if he wasn’t the one jumping Louis’ bones earlier. But he was already pulling off his clothes and helping Louis out of his as the words left his mouth.

“I haven’t had sex in months, leave me alone.” Louis groaned, but he was sure Harry could hear the grin in his voice.

“Nope. Never. Never again. You’re stuck with me now.” Harry whispered, leaning in to kiss a trail from Louis’ ear to his collarbone.

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, fighting off a blush.

As he watched Harry reach over to grab the lube, it dawned on Louis that he hadn’t  answered Harry’s question yet.

“Hey, I want — like this?” Louis toppled them over and lowered himself in between Harry’s legs, effectively crowding him against the mattress. “If — If you’re still up for it?”

Harry levelled him with a careful stare, while what looked like a thousand different expressions breaking across his face even as his fingers were drawing circles on the back of Louis’ neck.

“You want to fuck me?” Harry voiced, as if he wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? You have nothing to make up for, you know?” Harry said, “You could never fuck me and I’d still be perfectly content with what we have.”

Louis felt the beginning of a smile stretch his face as he was faced with the main reason Louis loved Harry in the first place — Harry was just a wonderfully selfless person all around.

“I’m sure.” Louis murmured, punctuating the sentiment with a squeeze of Harry’s ass. “I want to. Wanted to for a long time.”

Now, he could barely recall the reasons why he was so adamant in refusing in the first place. He no longer felt the irrational need to compare what he had with Harry with what he used to have with Teddy.

In that moment, he didn’t want to think about anybody else, he just wanted to be right there, hoisted up in Harry’s protective arms and peering down into his big, beautiful green eyes.

“Thank God.” Harry growled, pulling Louis’ face to his own and giving Louis a needy kiss that bordered on filthy.

 _Perfectly content, my ass._ Louis thought to himself, suppressing a smile as he reached for the forgotten lube with slightly trembling fingers.

As if on cue, Harry sucked in a breath and parted his legs further, reaching for Louis and bringing him back to where he was before — as close as he could be.

“Like this, please,” Harry said, eyes half-lidded with desire, “want to look at you. Want you close.”

Already coating two of his fingers with lubricant, Louis nodded, he didn’t want it any other way either.

He took his time opening Harry up, circling a gentle finger around Harry’s rim first, just so Harry could get used to the feeling then sliding it inside only when Harry asked him to.

“Give me another,” Harry whispered just a few minutes later. His cheeks coloured with a pleased flush of pink, and he let out a whimpering noise when Louis complied, his hips jerking up off the bed.

Louis smiled softly, leaning close to inhale the scent of Harry's — fresh scented pine and honey, again and again and again.

Harry was quieter like this, less talkative, but it was absolutely marvellous for Louis, to be able to see that whole other side of him — quieter, but still absolutely lovely.

Swearing under his breath, Harry reached for Louis’ cock eventually. The grip was nice but Louis snorted as he recognized the version of Harry he was more acquainted to.

“Let me.” Louis tsked, batting Harry’s fingers away and coating himself generously.

Harry’s legs tightened around Louis’ middle, letting out a litany of soft little whimpers when Louis first pushed in.

“Baby, is it okay like this?” Louis found himself asking as he bottomed out, feeling dizzy with how warm and tight Harry felt around his length.

“It’s perfect,” Harry reached for Louis’ face, framing it with long, slender fingers. He kept them there, the whole time they were making love, as if he knew Louis needed it. Bringing their mouths together in a fierce kiss first, then squeezing Louis against himself as Louis pumped in and out of him.

Louis felt so adored, lit up from within, as the man he loved uttered words of reassurance against his skin. _You’re perfect, sweetheart, you’re making me feel so good, I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you._

Louis screwed his eyes shut, dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder. The “I love you” he let out as he came, deep inside Harry, was low and intimate, breathed against the shell of Harry’s ear.

Harry shivered, a full body movement, and Louis didn’t know if the words had the same power over Harry that they held over Louis, like a spark to his flame, one that kept Louis burning, but he let out his release just seconds after Louis, with a low, guttural, satisfied grunt.

Afterwards, they cuddled for hours, just happy to be in each other’s space, lazily kissing with limbs heavy with sleep. They kissed until Louis’ lips felt numb, until there was nothing left in his mind other than static and Harry.

Only Harry.

 

  

 

Harry handed his resignation in to Blandine the very next day with a triumphant grin and a decisive fist slammed over the desk. The perks of being a temp included not being tied to a two-week notice, after all.

She accepted it gracefully once Harry introduced her to Louis, but he was way too happy to feel even so much as an inkling of guilt about it anyway, especially since Louis himself had been nothing short of giddy since they’d woken up that morning, his good mood so infectious that it could spread to even the grumpiest of people.

They gathered Harry’s belongings in less than an hour. Unsurprisingly, Harry hadn’t taken the time to make the space his own, the walls of his room still desperately empty after four months. How could he, when his heart belonged somewhere else entirely?

It all fit into the same suitcase he’d used when he left Abateemat, and Harry couldn’t help but see some symbolic symmetry in that.

“Ready to go?” Louis asked softly, bringing the luggage out of the room.

Harry was debating whether he should take the photograph pinned to the wall that Louis had brought with him — the one picturing the man he loved surrounded by their friends.

_Thanks for visiting Abateemat! Come back soon!_

Ultimately, Harry left it behind on the empty, sheetless bed, a smile curving on his lips. He collected pictures of people and places he visited around the world, but Abateemat wasn’t a souvenir — Abateemat was home.

“Let’s go home.” Harry said, sliding his hand into Louis’ offered one.

“ _Our_ home.” Louis parroted, and there was a finality to it when he said it, that was worth any apology Louis had laid at his feet the day before.

The Jamaican sun was burning bright, high in the sky, but it didn’t hold a candle to Louis’ smile just then. In that moment, Harry was hit by another kind of sunburn; the kind that was capable of making flower buds burst into bloom, or the bitter wind to lose its bite even in the midst of winter.

Hand in hand, they walked the short distance out of the gated complex Harry’s house was situated in, to where Louis had parked.

You could take Louis out of Abateemat but you couldn’t take Abateemat out of Louis, at least that was what Harry thought when he followed Louis to what must have been the biggest, tackiest truck Louis could have possibly rent on the island of Jamaica.

“Get in the truck.” Harry ordered, mockingly, just as he noticed Louis was about to say it first.

Louis indulged him, rolling his eyes and smiling.

He was used to Harry’s horrible sense of humor after all.

 

  

 

**One year later**

 

May was Harry’s favorite month of the year.

It meant that the spring had completely settled in at last, breathing warm winds over the desolate panorama and blowing over the last remnants of the harsh Canadian winter. The trees were heavy with leaves and blossoms, and where snow had resided only a few weeks before, sunlight now flooded the front porch of their house with its golden glow.

It had been a year since Louis had showed up in Montego Bay to bring Harry home, just in time for logging season to start up again, and just as spring bloomed, so did their love.

It took a little time for Harry to adjust, mainly because being jobless wasn’t really a habit of his, and also because Louis was gone most of the day. He made it a point to come home and have lunch with Harry everyday and _significantly_ shortened his hours once Harry started sending him dirty texts or explicit pictures of himself during office hours. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Louis to just burst into the house with a painful hard on demanding an explanation Harry was happy to give him — on his knees.

Other than torturing Louis, Harry spent his time cooking healthy meals, catching up with their friends or taking care of the house and making it his own. He purchased a couch large enough for them to have sex on (a very important quality for a couch, if you asked Harry) and comfortable enough so Louis could snooze on it after a movie and Harry wouldn’t break his neck binge watching Julia Roberts’ filmography.

Ultimately, Harry picked up the hobby he’d indulged in before leaving, making good use of the space Louis cleared for him and soon enough, he was making custom furniture that people were prepared to pay a fortune for, to Harry’s great surprise (Louis on the other hand wasn’t shocked in the slightest, at least that’s what he said, looking proud as a peacock).

Harry didn’t know if it was his calling in life, being an artisan, but for now he enjoyed it enough that he didn’t notice the hours pass by and that was more than most people could say about their job.

During Louis’ off-season however, the two of them explored the world. It had been Louis’ idea too, considering it was time for him to make good use of the money he’d worked so hard for, but Harry had suspected it was for his benefit mostly. They’d visited Thailand and New York last winter, and Harry got to show him everything he loved about discovering new places and meeting new people. Louis was a little out of his depth at first, but he turned out to be a great sport about it and Harry was grateful, because as much as he loved the woods, he loved that Louis just _knew_ that travelling was not only necessary for Harry’s well-being, but an intrinsic part of himself, too.

Louis bought off Niall’s share of the property with Teddy’s life insurance money. He hadn’t touched it before, having left it there to rot — like Teddy’s clothes in the closet, or his own heart (Louis’ words), plus he was sick of Niall hanging that over his head.

It seemed kind of liberating to Louis, like he was more at peace after that, like the ghosts of his past had been appeased.

They were taking a walk now, Jasper in tow, to do Harry’s favorite task during the month of May, the first thing they did when they came home after Jamaica: planting saplings in the places Louis had cleared out the year before.

It bore some kind of significance to them, like an anniversary of sorts, a symbol of their love, new and growing, in need of nurturing after being cut off short.

Jasper was carrying the baby trees to their destination after Harry had followed Louis’ instructions to the letter and prepared them with great care: carefully keeping the root balls moist and making sure the trees weren’t bruised during transport, protecting the bark, the branches and the buds like they were precious jewels.

It felt sentimental now, walking along the familiar path through the luxurious greenery of the trees, swaying gracefully as if they were the ballerinas of mother nature. Harry could see small patches of the clear blue skies peering in through the trees just before they reached the clearing where Louis had taught Harry how to fell a tree — just a few hours before they’d made love for the first time.

Louis unloaded the cargo while Harry took care of unfastening Jasper’s harness, they would be here all day, so the horse could rest and trot around leisurely in the middle of the deserted area criss-crossed with tree roots and stumps.

Trying to find the perfect spot for the first sapling, Harry started to look around, fully aware that Louis was following his movements, watching from the corner of his eye.

“Here?” Harry asked, pointing at an area he thought was good enough, not too close to stumps or shielded from the sun.

Leaning on a shovel, Louis hummed, shaking his head no, an amused little smile dancing on his lips.

“Here then?” Harry proposed, finding another patch of land not too far away.

“Nope. No room for root growth there.”

Ah yes, root growth, Harry remembered distantly Louis saying something along those lines this morning when he laid out the dos and don’ts of sapling planting. As much as Harry loved listening to Louis talk about his passion (mainly because it made the crinkles of Louis’ eyes deepen when he did), Harry couldn’t be held responsible for zoning out every once in a while — as it turned out, Louis was a rather chatty person, shockingly.

Harry wasn’t about to admit he hadn’t been listening, even though he suspected that Louis knew already — he was taking way too much pleasure in seeing Harry squirm right now not to.

“Heh. What about there?”

“No,” Louis laughed easily, nudging Harry towards the closest trunk, “I’m the pro here, just sit there and look pretty, I’ll let you know when you can help.”

Harry let out a mock grunt. “Jasper, bud, it’s official, Lou is now more stubborn than you.” then he turned to Louis, “Congratulations babe, you finally completely morphed into your spirit animal, you’re a horse.”

“And you’re a singing bird that can’t let me sleep in on a Saturday to save your life.” Louis cocked an eyebrow, but his chuckle gave him away before he resumed digging the soil.

That didn’t sound right.

Harry rose to his feet, closing the distance between them. He pushed the shovel aside so he could slide into Louis space easily. As always, Louis let him, sliding his hands around Harry’s neck with a faux exasperated sigh.

“You’re wrong. I’m not a bird. if you’re a horse, I’m a horse.” Harry landed a lingering kiss on Louis’ mouth. Louis’ facial hair was back, but that was the result of too many lazy mornings wrapped up in each other and nothing else. Louis would rather shave less and spend more time with him — which Harry was all for.

“Did you just— misquote The Notebook?” Louis smiled through the kiss, “Oh God you’re such a sap.” He said, trying to sound appalled but he couldn’t look more pleased if he’d tried.

Eventually, they resumed working, side by side, Louis digging and Harry planting, exchanging small talk about anything and everything. Today’s hot topic included Casey and Niall and the bomb they’d dropped last Tuesday during their weekly dinner that followed the band’s rehearsals.

“I still can’t believe there’s going to be another Sheeran in this world soon.” Louis said, baffled, discarding his dirty gloves to take a sip of water.

“Are we happy about that?” Harry asked carefully.

“Of course we are,” Louis shrugged, but his smile felt forced. “Just a little bittersweet, you know?”

Harry had come to terms with his ambivalent feelings towards Teddy a while ago — it was a lot easier to deal with that now that he _knew_ that Louis was his. Now he could be there for Louis when he got overwhelmed by nostalgia, someone Louis could lean on, a partner.

Following his instincts, Harry pulled Louis to his chest. He went easily, mellowing instantly in Harry’s arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry murmured against the side of Louis’ face, letting Louis take his time with his reply.

After a few beats of silence, Louis let out a wet sigh. “There’s nothing to say really, just—  You know? Just— it’s— yeah.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Harry squeezed Louis that much harder, just to let him know that he was here, in the present, that he was anchored.

“What if the baby looks like Teddy?” Louis finally admitted, voice a little bit shaky.

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Harry planted a wet kiss on Louis’ forehead, “The same way we deal with your wedding anniversary or the anniversary of Teddy’s death. Together.”

They were a team, and Harry was in Louis’ corner, always.

Louis took a deep, shaky breath, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve as Harry soothed the love of his life with gentle fingertips scraping over his ribcage.

“I’m still working my head around the fact that Casey is going to be a mother.” Harry said, to lighten up the mood once Louis’ heartbeat came back to a normal rate.

”God, she’s going to be a nightmare.”

Louis wasn’t wrong, Louis and Harry both loved her but she was a tough nut to crack and aside from Niall, who had the power to turn her into a puddle on the floor, there was no one else who could handle that tornado of a woman.

As the sun started to set, they packed up the gear, exertion turning their movement slower and less precise than before. Harry felt good though, like he did after a good work out, it was a good kind of fatigue.

“Hey, you know I want one too?” Harry dared to voice, as he lead Jasper down the path stretching onward ridged and laboured with frequent comings and goings.

“What?”

“A kid. Of our own.” Harry explained, not exactly avoiding eye contact but not exactly meeting Louis’ eye either. “A Tomlinson-Styles.”

“Right now or— ?”

Harry lowered his gaze at Louis’ tone, his eyes had widened in surprise but it was evident he wasn’t turned off by the mere mention of it.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Harry said, squeezing reassuringly at Louis’ hand, “We could finally turn that spare room into something.”

It wasn’t like Harry had been actively thinking about it, but right now, after spending the day alone with Louis planting new roots in well-seasoned land — on the day of their anniversary no less (well not quite, but still), it felt right, natural, like a new beginning, like they had come full circle.

“Okay.” Louis smiled.

Harry couldn’t help the smile from growing on his face as he came to a halt, turning to face Louis fully. “Okay, as in you’re ready, or okay as you’ll tell me when you’re ready?”

In lieu of a reply, Louis rose to his tiptoes, and planted a kiss over Harry’s mouth that soon turned to a smile against Harry’s lips, that turned to a laugh into Harry’s neck.

It was a good thing Harry had learned to read Louis’ silences a long time ago.

“Hey, let’s take the scenic route home, shall we?” Louis said, his arms clasped tight around Harry’s neck. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

In the end, instead of the clear, worn-down path they usually favored, side by side, they took the road less travelled by —  and it made all the difference.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking this journey with me.
> 
> It's hard writing in a vacuum so please, leave kudos, write a comment if you enjoyed this work. 
> 
> Give it some love by reblogging [the masterpost](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178592740756/the-road-less-travelled-by-by-freetheankles)! 
> 
> Better yet, come and talk to me: I am [freetheankles](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com) and [freethemankles](http://www.twitter.com/freethemankles) over on twitter (although I’m not really active there). 
> 
> Here’s [the playlist for the fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/16dRy8nJdzX7lWpfr3jsEL?si=rIR4o6SURmSxPqrVKO0Wpw)
> 
> check the [Lumberjack Louis tag](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/tagged/lumberjack-louis) for posts that inspired this work.
> 
> You can also give some love to Lexa for this [moodboard!](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178648065666/kingharryx-endless-list-of-fics-6), and [Larryfanfiction](http://www.larryfanfiction.com) for [this moodboard](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178739436426/larryfanfiction-the-road-less-travelled-by-by), thank you to ifyoulikedhl for [this moodboard](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/180705240211/ifyoulikedhl-if-you-liked-the-road-less) too! I love them so much!
> 
> Tyler has made a Jasper [board](https://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/180200928361/the-thought-of-giant-jasper-with-tiny-ponies-and) too! isn't it cuuute?
> 
> The twitter side of the fandom has been particularly kind to this fic, and I want to give them a shoutout too!
> 
> A warm thank you to Niv, for the [the lovely poem](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/178978593601/sometimes-people-do-very-lovely-things-after-they) inspired by this story.  
> Harryandlouisthings for [this moodboard](https://www.twitter.com/HLouisthings/status/1067606253633855489), ifyouonlyknewlz for [this moodboard](https://www.twitter.com/ifyouonlyknewlz/status/1066126213649977344)
> 
> If you are curious, some scenes that didn't make the cut can be found [on my blog](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/180147258901/is-there-any-scenes-you-wanted-to-write-for-the) :)
> 
> (Subscribe to be the first to know when I post a completely unnecessary kinky epilogue in a few weeks, featuring Harry wearing assless plaid boxers and a Louis who does not know what to do with himself.)


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